I Can't Face The Dark Without You
by ABDonovan
Summary: My name is Shan. This is my account of the new world, and it's trials and tribulations. I have one mission. I have one reason for fighting: Daryl Dixon. I know him, as you never will. I'm the girl who loved him against his will. If you're reading this, I'm probably Dead. Take care of him, for me. He can't do it alone. Daryl/OC (Currently Being Reworked) Rating for Language mostly.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

"Shh…", Daryl hissed, a wide grin plastered to his face as he pressed his bare back further into the tree behind him. The giggling mess in front of him covered her mouth with her forearm, finding it next to impossible to stifle the squeaky giggles that escaped her alcohol-drenched lips.

Meet Shan. That's me. Yep, I was a mess back then. I was the all knowing, all seeing child stuck in an adult's body, and trapped on a farm. The farm life was beautiful. It was full of animals and fresh food, but it was also lonely. There were two things within ten miles of our place: The Dixon household, and the Cotton Exchange. One of which, was my life, the other decided my day to day, and whether we ate spam for a month or not.

Never mind my sob story. I assume you're here for this sex pistol in front of me, aren't you? That's Daryl Dixon. He's the kid from down the road, the farm hand to my daddy's crops, and my toy. The rest…well..You'll see soon enough.

"Yer gonna get us caught, dammit…", he hissed, holding my face, as he brought it back to his for a rough kiss. The darkness of the woods gave me false security sometimes. Even though I knew my father could come out here any time he wanted to, the sneaky nature of our relationship caused those cares to vanish. What had gone down that night…well…that was what mattered.

I let out another giggle, pulling my pants up my slender legs with some hassle. He watched, as if studying the way my muscles moved. I had to admit that I enjoyed the attention, and my ass gave a bit of a wiggle, before the tattered jeans slid over it. I looked back, glancing out from under the curtain of scarlet hair in front of my eyes, and smirked. I could be such a devil sometimes.

I reached down on my way back to him, and grabbed his dirty jeans, tossing them in the air above him. He caught them with one hand, turning them right side out with a bit of effort.

My boots had somehow made their way down the tiny hill behind him, and I walked carefully (trying to avoid sticker-burs) and slipped my feet into them. As I watched him get dressed I decided to enjoy the simple sight in front of me. Daryl Dixon was definitely something to look at. He had the normal farm hand body. His shoulders were strong and chiseled, as were his upper arms, from tossing hay and watermelons. His legs were skinnier, from sitting on a tractor for days at a time. Just the action of putting on a shirt was very mesmerizing to me, as a sheltered daughter, and I let out a quiet giggle, blushing.

It was easy, sometimes; to forget why my father didn't like the way I looked at Daryl. He was a good bit older than I was, and his job status left much to be desired, in my father's eyes. The twelve year age gap just made things more exciting, for me, and age was a number, to both of us, in most cases. Still yet, Daryl remained paranoid, and refused to see me, outside of my tea runs and rendezvous under tree coverage.

"You gon' stand back there like a creep, or help me find my boots?", he asked me, ripping me from my stare. I gave a warm smile, looking around the area mine had been. I tracked down one of them, throwing it at his ass, with perfect precision, "…Bitch!"

"Stop whinin' you titty baby…", I mumbled back, in reply, moving a branch back to reveal his other boot. I lifted the sneaky leather from the ground, and carried it up the small hill to him, bending to help tie his other side, as he slipped his foot in the one I was holding.

I could feel his eyes on the back of my head, obviously enjoying the treatment. I stared straight ahead, keeping my eyes on the tattered leather and laces of his boots. I couldn't help, during the time we spent together to think of all the times, when I was a little girl that my father was called out to the Dixon household for one thing or another, and would come home, telling my mother about how badly those boys had been treated. He loved me a little more, and gave me a little better of a life, every time he went out there. The vanity of it was nice, but knowing Daryl, I couldn't imagine such a perfect soul coming from a house such as the one my father described. Merle, on the other hand, echoed his treatment, and I couldn't help but feel that he was a better person than he led on around my dad.

As I finished his laces and shook the bad thoughts from my head, I rose from my knees to meet his dirty nose with my own, stealing a few kisses, before I heard the familiar sound of my mother screaming for me. I jumped, as he did, and then giggled, placing a few heavy pecks against his lips.

"I have to go inside. Mom thinks the coyotes will eat my face off, apparently. I think she's caught onto the real threat…", I said with a smile. I could barely see his teeth and his piercing blue eyes in the little light that snuck through the clouds. He was smiling, and I was pleased with that, "Don't be late for work tomorrow, alright?"

"I ain't never been b'fore…", he said quietly, grabbing his jacket from it's place on our makeshift coat hanger (a branch stuck in a woodpecker cache). He snuck around the back of the tractor, with me in tow. I couldn't help it. I reached behind his neck, entangling my hand in his muddy hair, and smashed our lips together, to get me through the night. He returned the kiss, placing one against my nose after it had broken, and pushed me toward the yard, as he embarked out onto the gravel road watching to make sure I made it to the house. I reluctantly turned and ran up to my mother's awaiting arm. I could have swore she looked out to the road and waved at Daryl in the dark.

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, I heard nothing but chaos. Apparently, the chaos had awoken me. There were screams and sounds of metal clashing against metal downstairs. From what I could hear, there were men in our house, demanding that my mother and father submit, somehow. What?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a flannel shirt from the closet and a pair of jeans. I had learned, from my paranoid father, to always be ready to fight. So, getting dressed was the first thing I thought to do. Now, I am glad I did, or I would be walking the streets half naked. I slipped the clothes on, slipped my feet into my work boots, and peeked out from around my cracked open door, just in time to see something that I'll never forget, and the sight will haunt me for the rest of my short life.

The cops…shot my parents. They just shot them down like animals, execution style. Their hands were tied loosely behind their backs, and my mother was crying, begging them not to. There was no way I could do anything, but scream, which I covered my mouth to prevent, as tears pooled in my eyes. They killed them both, grabbed them, and took them from the house, before others began making their way inside, tearing it apart for a sign of life (or the fortune that didn't exist).

I shut the door quietly as my mind began to race. What was I going to do? If I stayed, the men would come and kill me. If I…How was I going to leave?! I was distraught, and I was terrified. I was mostly terrified, and in survival mode. I looked around my room, as I heard the men going into other rooms of the house. They slammed doors, broke picture frames, and I could hear them pumping shotguns as they went through the vault, downstairs. My breath hitched in my throat. They were busy stealing from us. Maybe I had a few minutes. I mean, what could they be here for? Had my father made a bad deal with someone? It wasn't like we were growing drugs, here. We grew cotton. I had to run. It was all I could do. I had to make it to the Dixons. Maybe I had time to pack a few things, and jump. Breaking my arms would be a lot better than being shot in the head, and I knew the woods behind my house better than anyone in this world. I would have one up on these Atlanta City cops, and the woods broke out to the Dixon house. I huffed, in determination, and began pillaging my own room.

I opened the gun cabinet, pulling out a shotgun. I opened the choke, and turned the shotgun barrel down to the floor, giving it a hard shake. The plug fell onto the carpet, silently, as well as the spring. I grabbed the box of shells that sat next to my head, pulling seven shells from it. My hands were shaking so bad that I almost fucked up and dropped whole box of shells onto the wooden section of floor in front of the cabinet, which would have ensured my failure. I held the shotgun up, and placed a shell into the bottom spring, slowly pulling the pump down, cringing at every click. When the shell was in the chamber securely, I loaded the other six shells silently. I threw the shotgun on the bed, and turned back to the cabinet. I grabbed the army duffel that Daryl had left over while my parents were in Tunica, and shakily placed three boxes of shells into it, as well as four boxes of bullets for the Python that I wasn't supposed to have in this cabinet. I reached in and grabbed two more boxes of random bullets, pulling out the Python, and shoved it in the duffel. Finally, I brought out two small handguns that I wasn't even sure of, and stuffed them in, as I heard boots hammering up the stairs.

I don't think I have ever been as terrified as I was at that moment. It was the moment of truth. It was the last moment of my life, before I would surely be killed. I had to force my feet from the ground, to move to the window. I raised it, cringing at the squeal it let loose, and reached a shaky hand to the bed, grabbing the duffel and shotgun in one hand. As I slid out onto the roof, I pulled the shotgun to my chest, and rolled, rolling off the roof and onto a tree limb, which I attempted to hold onto for dear life.

"No…no no no…", I whined to myself, before closing my eyes in surrender, and letting go of the tree. The fall isn't what kills you, it's hitting the bottom, and hit the bottom I did. I landed on my back, flat against the wet ground, inches from the old tractor. As I lay there, my world buzzing around me, I forgot that I was running for my life. I thought about what could be going on. What could be happening in Atlanta that would bring cops in…to kill all the civilians.

Oh god. What if they…

I bolted up straight, looking up at the window, straight into the eyes of my parents killer. I reached around myself, searching for my shotgun. My hands fumbled upon it, just in time to see his face disappear behind a scope. I did the only thing I could, at that moment. I pressed the safety button and fired, the long range causing the beads to spread, and the man to scream out in pain. I had no time to revel in the great shot. I had to go. I had to go now!

I stood, and ejected the empty shell, before placing the safety back on and taking off running again. I ran as hard as my tiny legs would run, over roots and stumps, through the familiar woods, with one thing on my mind. I had to get there, before the men did. I jumped over a last stump, my heart pounding, my lungs hurting. The Dixon house looked untouched, from this distance. Maybe the men hadn't gotten there. Maybe the men had been after her father, specifically. She couldn't rely on that hope. She climbed the fence to the horse pasture and continued running across the yard.

I lost all ability to care about what was around me. I ran to the front of the beaten down house, and up the steps, losing it. I dropped my shotgun heavily to the ground, the metal sounding like a bomb firing off as it smashed against the termite eaten wood. I threw the duffel to the side, and screamed. I screamed for my life, for my parents, and for the fear that I never thought I would feel, in my life.

"DARYL! Please! DARYYYYL!", I screamed, as broken sobs broke from my mouth. He didn't come. No one came. I was on my knees, my face inches from the floor, when I came to the realization that made me sick. My stomach dropped, so hard that I stopped breathing for a few seconds. I didn't even hear my heart beating away in my chest. I only heard the roar of shock, as I stood and pushed open the door. I stumbled my way into the house, and looked around. It had been torn apart, like my house was. There were bloody handprints littering the walls, but I didn't see any sign of death, until I hit the kitchen, and a boot peeked out from around the door frame.

Pulling my fist to my mouth, I let out a loud sob, refusing to see him like that. I didn't want to see the piece of flesh missing from his face, like my parents. I didn't want to know...but I had to. I slapped myself hard, pumping myself up. I had to nut up and being strong. I had to get myself together, and move on. This was happening, and it sucked, but it was real. I slowly turned the corner, peering onto the body, which I quickly recognized as a cop. Sighing in relief, I looked around the room in a frantic search.

"Daryl?!", I called out, but I never received an answer. I was alone. I was truly alone to my own devices, and I didn't even know what was happening. So, I took a deep breath, picked up my inner self, and headed out the door. If I knew Daryl…he was in the woods somewhere, which was exactly where I would go. I had to find him. Until then, I had to learn to care for myself.

* * *

This is my story.

This is the story of what happened…when the dead began to walk the earth.

This is the beginning of the end of the world.

We weren't prepared.

We won't make it out alive.

None of us will.

This is my story. My name is Shan. I'm from Atlanta, Georgia. If you're reading this, I'm probably Dead.


	2. Chapter 2: Atlanta or Bust

**Note: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and read this. I love writing this, because it's pretty much autobiographical. I'm a country girl, who knows a lot about horses and guns. So, I based my character off of myself, and that makes her even easier to write for, and to love!**

**This chapter, I brought Daryl in as his own character, while still writing for Shan's journal. They'll be apart for a while, but I think you guys will like reading the meltdown of the world, and how Daryl deals with it. I will also be going into why he is so hard, later in the seasons. :)**

**So far, this is pre-season 1. So, enjoy!**

Chapter 2: Atlanta or Bust

A fist shot through the window of Dennis Outdoors. An arm followed, pushing the hand to the brass doorknob, where it turned the locks, and left. The door was soon pushed open, and Daryl Dixon pushed his way through, his shotgun barrel leading the way, as he checked the store out. He had been through Hell, already. His face was covered in dirt and blood, and his once clean work shirt was now void of its sleeves and the green color was a deep and menacing color of rust. He had killed more people today than he ever thought possible, and he wasn't completely convinced that the people were dead. However, after what he had seen, he couldn't take a chance. Before he shot her, he watched an old lady, with half a body; tear a man apart like he was some sort of candy.

He limped his way through the store, smirking at the fact that the shelves had really been left alone. These dumb city motherfuckers hadn't even thought to grab guns, or ammo. Either that, or they hadn't had time. Either way, he had all the guns and ammo he needed, right under his nose. He quickly turned and ran to the door, as best he could on a torn up leg. He turned the locks, and then looked around the store again, his head racing.

No one really knew what happened, in Atlanta. No one really knew if the sickness, or madness transcended Atlanta, or if it was a local event. All the people knew was that they had to run. They had to get out. They had to get away from these people, who needed no weapons to kill everyone in sight. Daryl, however, had run right into the Lion's den. He didn't have a choice. He had nothing, but a gunshot wound to the thigh, blood on his hands, and an old hunting knife. He needed something with more firepower, but that he could carry ammo for easily. He began looking at the glass cases behind the checkout counter, going through the guns with his mind. Most of them were single shot, or had huge plugs in them. At best, they would hold three or four shells, meaning he would have to carry a ton of extra ammo on him. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, as he continued through the guns.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of the bow rack. He narrowed his eyes, pulling away from the guns and walking toward it. He thought of the pros and cons of carrying a bow. The one pro that came to mind was re-usable ammo. He reached his hand up, pushing some of them aside on the cord that held them to the wall. When he reached what he was looking for, he smirked, pulling it down and holding it in his hands, like a trophy. It was a Horton crossbow. It had a red-dot scope, and a quiver that held twelve bolts.

"Hell yeah…" he whispered, looking through the scope for a couple of seconds. He looked toward the door as more of the 'sick' people walked by. If he didn't hurry, he would be trapped in this damn shop, and there were too many windows for his comfort. He fumbled around, grabbing a hand full of bolts from a box below the bow rack. One by one, he slid them into the quiver, and began looking around for supplies of any other use.

Once he had tracked down the provisions, and some bottles of water, he stuffed all of his supplies into a hunting backpack, and stumbled back over to the gun case, grabbing a few handguns and some random ammo. He had to leave Atlanta, or he risked being stuck there, after dark. He was in survival, never once thinking back to the farm…

_**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD**_

I stared out into the yard. My eyes were cold, and I could feel my body growing rigid with fear and determination. The longer I sat here, the more willing I was to put a bullet in every person's head until I found Daryl Dixon. He was one of four people I knew, on this planet. Two of those four were dead; making him the only thing I had left in the world. I shook myself from the shock that I seemed to be in, looking around the yard. I didn't even remember stopping out here. I didn't remember feeling the need to, but I guess my legs just wouldn't carry me any further than the front steps.

I looked out across the large pasture, seeing the horses grazing, like nothing was going on. I half expected, I guess, that the men would have killed the horses. Smirking, I stood, and grabbed my shotgun from the ground, along with my duffel bag and made my way toward the old barn, where Daryl kept his Franken-Harley. He and my father had built that stupid motorcycle from the ground up. It wasn't a complete Harley, but it had the emblem, which was enough to make Daryl feel important. That's what my dad was going for.

I grabbed the door handle to the barn, and with as much effort as I had left in me; I pulled the large door to the side. It creaked to a halt, and I stepped into the barn, looking around at all of the old tools and things. There was no sign that anyone had been in here, except the Franken-Harley was missing. Daryl…was alive. I couldn't go on that hope alone, but I had to think that he was the only soul on this planet who would be able to convince himself the damn thing would run. That hope, ended any shock that was still reverberating through my body.

Daryl wasn't here. He had killed the man in the kitchen, and taken off. He was on his way to something better, and he had done the grown up thing. He had left me behind. I'm glad. He would have been killed, along side of my parents, and I would be alone, forever. Sighing, I tightened my grip on the duffel bag and grabbed a bridle and rope that was hanging next to my head. I draped them around my neck, and stomped out of the barn. The determination in my bones made me forget that I didn't like horses. I didn't like to ride them. I tolerated them.

I slowly climbed the fence to the pasture, eyeing Daryl's Percheron carefully. The horse was huge, and it hated me. I could see it in its eyes. It was a damn demonic fiend, but it was my only means of locomotion. I had to ride this damn thing to safety, if it would let me. I began making kissing noises, holding my hand out as if I had food. Shockingly, it worked. The giant, black horse began making its way to me, and I smiled. I broke…a smile.

"Good boy…that's a good boy…", I cooed to the giant, hanging my duffle on the fence post, with my shotgun balanced within its handles. I pulled the bridle from around my neck and reached a hand out, softly stroking the nose of the horse as I climbed to the top of the high fence. This horses back was almost six feet tall, and I stood a meager five and half. Hopefully, he would be still, long enough for me to jump onto his wide back, "That's it. Nice and easy…"

I slowly slipped the bridle over his nose, and pulled it carefully behind his ears, which he allowed, making annoyed sounds. I had no saddle, which made me nervous, as I pulled the rope around behind his head, and slowly lifted a leg, and straddling him. His motion beneath me caused my breath to hitch, from the fear of falling. I pulled on the makeshift reign, lightly leading him closer to the fence. He obliged, and I smiled, again.

"That's a good boy. Good boy, Riot…", I cooed, reaching over to grab my duffel and shotgun. I threw the duffel onto my shoulder and placed the shotgun on my lap, before kicking Riot's sides a bit to make him gallop. And gallop he did. He took of in a speed that almost knocked me off of his back, and I leaned forward, terrified, as he jumped the fence. Daryl had always had trouble with him escaping and running off into the woods. He was a wild horse, at heart, but he was Daryl's pride and joy. I'm sure leaving him behind was the hardest thing he ever did. I'm sure that Daryl wasn't Daryl anymore, when hit the road.

When we touched down on the other side of the fence, I pulled the reigns tight, and Riot slowed down, giving me a breather as I thought of our destination. We could either ride into Atlanta, or look for supplies, or we could comb the woods, and take our chances. Sighing, I kicked his sides again, leading him to the road.

Atlanta or bust…

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Daryl slipped out of the store, limping badly on his bad leg. He wouldn't make it much farther, before infection would set in, if he didn't find somewhere for safety. Safety. Yeah right. There was no such thing as safety in this world anymore. The country is supposed to be safe, right? That was a big lie in everyone's face. His family had been massacred. Merle had taken off. God knows where he had ended up, and Daryl was left to fend for himself. He quickly limped over to his chopper, shoving some of the boxes of ammo in its saddlebags, while he positioned himself on the seat, bringing it to life with a roar. The people limping their way through the streets all turned, as if he had signaled for them, and with only a little difference in breathing, he sped past them, leaving Atlanta in the dust.

It wasn't even an hour later that he came out of the city to find a huge traffic jam. The traffic was going the wrong way. Idiots were trying to get into Atlanta. Atlanta was gone. Didn't these people know anything? They were driving right to their own death sentence. He drove his way down the side of the road, slowing his pace, as he saw a lot of children running around in between the cars. The cars themselves looked like campsites. People had pulled out lawn chairs and food, and were eating their way through the stress. He stopped, however, at the sight of a little boy. The little boy couldn't have been over eight years old, and was wrapped around the waist of a bulky looking man. The man looked like he had some sort of authority, here…like a cop.

"Can I help you, man?" the cop asked, looking Daryl in the eyes. He didn't even realize that he was staring. He shook his head, looking down at his bike, before looking back up at the face in front of him.

"What's…What's goin' on?", he asked him, his voice soft.

"Somthin's goin' around. We heard there's a refuge center in Atlanta…"

"Nah. Atlanta's gone, man." Daryl said sadly, trying to keep his voice down. There was no use in starting mass panic here, with all the kids. However, the woman standing near the cop stepped forward. Her face held anger, as she shot dagger eyes at Daryl.

"How dare you come here and say that to us. How the hell do you know anything about…"

"Lori…Calm it down. The man's obviously been through Hell, and he came from that way. Maybe he knows…", the man spoke up, placing a hand on 'Lori's' arm.

"Or maybe he doesn't know shit! He could be like all the cops around here…"

"Not a cop…", Daryl spoke up, quietly, which caused Lori's shoulders to fall in surrender. She ran her hands through her hair and walked back over to the little boy, who now looked terrified. Daryl was sorry for scaring the kid. That was never his intention, but he owed nothing to these people, "I just came from there. Those people…the sick ones? They're all in the streets, eatin' folks and tearin' shit up. I barely got out. If there was a center, I figure it's moved, or gon'"

"You got any idea what's goin' on?", the man asked, looking Daryl over, and seeing the gunshot wound to his thigh. He narrowed his eyes, as if sizing Daryl up.

"No more than you…", Daryl answered, snaking his hand down to the hilt of his hunting knife, slowly. He didn't like the way the man was looking at him, until the man extended a hand.

"My name's Shane."

Daryl looked down at his hand, before back up at his face. He didn't want to know any of these people. They weren't his problem. They weren't his responsibility, and what he knew about the land would be an asset to them, MAKING them his responsibility. However, the hospitable side of his personality came through, and he took Shane's hand, gripping it. At least he wouldn't be truly alone…

"Daryl…"

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I met my first Walker outside of Atlanta. It was the beginning of the end of my sanity, and it was the moment I grew up. I grew up fast…in the land of the Walking Dead.

Riot galloped down the large highways, passing empty cars and dead bodies the whole way. Some of the bodies were still inside the cars, and some of them were lying in ditches to the side. Riot could tell something was going on. His muscles were tense, and he jerked, veering off to the side, here and there. He was nervous, and I slowed him to a stop, turning him in a circular pace, as I looked around us; my hand on the shotgun.

That was when I saw her.

Her head was held on by a piece of muscle, moving from side to side, like a spring. Though, as she walked closer to us, I could see her mouth snapping. I couldn't tell, in that moment, if she was after Riot, or myself.

"Ma'am…stop…", I said, idiotically addressing her as if she was still alive. I didn't want to have to shoot her. I wanted her to live. I wanted her to change, and get better, as if she was just sick, "Please stop. Ma'am?! MA'AM!"

Riot began pacing more nervously, and I did the only thing I could, to protect myself. I raised my shotgun, and fired, blowing her head from what was left of her neck. As she hit the grown, I raised my hand to my mouth and let out a shaky breath. I killed a woman. I did. Me. I had no one to cry to about it. I had no one to tell me that I was any less of a terrible person for it. I had killed her.

Deciding that I couldn't stop, I kicked Riot's sides and we took off again.

**3 I loved writing this chapter, for more development of not only Daryl, but Shan.**


	3. Chapter 3: Fear The Living

**Note: Thanks to everyone who is reading, following, and favoriting! You guys are awesome! I'm loving the direction this is taking, and I would like suggestions. I take them with a grain of salt. Some of the suggestions may be used, and some will spark other ideas, but won't be. I hope you love this chapter, as I thought long and hard on how I wanted it to go!**

**R&R please!**

Chapter 3: Fear the Living

Riot's breathing had started to become labored, as we hit Main Street. He needed water, and I didn't have the amount that would be needed to sustain him, and leave some for myself, as well. I clicked at him, and guided him down a small alleyway, in search of a water main. If I could find one, I could at least get some water onto his back and cool him down, as I could feel his sweat rolling down my already soaked jeans. We were both exhausted, dehydrated, and would soon be getting into a danger zone with all three.

"C'mon boy…just a little further…", I whispered to him, my own voice cracking from lack of water. I had to make it to something concrete. I had to make it to water, and food, and humans. Live humans…

The city was abandoned. There were no people. The few cars that were strewn along the streets looked as if they had been shot to hell. They had been put down, to keep people from leaving, or were accidental casualties to something bigger, like fire. As we strolled down the alley, I watched his reactions. Every time his muscles tensed up, I looked around, terrified of what might jump out of the corner to get both of us. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't go down in this city without knowing that Daryl was okay.

My eyes lit up, and I could feel him tensing against the bridle as he caught a glimpse of the same thing. A water hose, still flooding into the gravel, was hanging over the side of a dumpster. It was as if I was seeing an oasis, in an endless desert, and my parched mouth began watering for a small taste of cool refreshment. I guided Riot to the dumpster, and used it as a platform to climb off of him. I wrapped the rope around the handle of the dumpster, peeling myself from Riot's back, onto the lid, and off to the ground, where I grabbed the hose and began guzzling the metallic well water. I didn't care how it tasted. I didn't care about the microorganisms breeding and swimming around inside the hose, or the fact that my mouth was inches away from an unidentifiable slime. The water…was safety.

After my stomach wouldn't let me drink anymore of the cold water, I searched the ground for any bottles, and managed to find a few empty Gatorade bottles. Satisfied on that account, as well, I filled the bottles up with water, and smiled, holding the cold plastic to my forehead for a bit of relief. It had to be over a hundred degrees outside, and there was nowhere to hide, except these alleys, and god knows what was in most of them. We were lucky that this one was cleared.

I lifted the hose to Riot's back, running cool water all over him, to which I received much praise and excitement. He pranced a bit, and shook his head, as the cool water ran through his mane and onto the ground below his massive head. He leaned down, drinking from the deep puddle that had formed in the gravel. He seemed pleased, happy. That was when I heard the first scurry. At first, I kept my eyes peeled toward the sound, and stayed still. Upon the second sound, and the sound of voices, I began to panic, climbing quietly onto the dumpster with my bag in tow, and onto Riot's soaked back, again, clicking to him quietly. Who knew what humans did, in the panic that had already ensued? Who knew if people were still pillaging and raping, to get things they wanted, or needed for survival? I could only assume that the government had fallen, to order the mass execution of innocent humans…

"Hey! Is there someone down there?", I heard a male voice call out to me. My breath became shaky as I pulled my shotgun close to my chest, and held Riot's rope tightly between my fingers. He was already nervous, and began huffing toward the sound. I wanted, at that moment, to put my hand over his mouth, like a human's to tell him to hush, "…We don't want to hurt you. We're scared too. Why don't you come out here, and we can…you know…find the sanctuary together…"

I gritted my teeth together. What was I going to do? I couldn't trust these people. I had guns. I had ammo. I had supplies and I didn't even know why they needed it. I only knew what I had seen on the news in the weeks before. People were eating others. It started as a story here, and another there. Some guy on PCP had eaten his dog. Some woman on bath salts had attacked a cop, and bitten his ear. A week later, he had died of a fever, and his body was cremated. No one had ever explained why. At the time, I can't say that I cared why, as long as it stayed away from my little piece of false security.

I couldn't make up my mind. I could both trust these people, and take my chances of their panic coming down on me, or I could not trust them, and take my chances on my own. Who knew how long it would be before I found shelter, and civilization? Who knew if there was a civilization to find? However, who knew…if these men would hurt me, steal my horse and gear, and go on without me?

"C'mon Riot…let's go…", I whispered, leaning forward and running a hand across his mane. He didn't seem to keen on the idea of moving, but when I tapped his side with the back of my boot he slowly inched forward. His footsteps caused me to cringe. They were like gunshots, and they made me want to unshoe him, there and then. I knew better. He wouldn't make it a mile without shoes, being as huge as he was. His body weight on this pavement would bring us down, and he would be gimp. I couldn't risk it. So, I did what I could. I kicked his sides and took off at a gallop.

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Daryl peeked out from his tent at the group he had broken down and joined. He had no need for these people. Not really. They were nothing but a burden; mouths to feed. They were nothing but people who would probably starve, like that little girl, and that kid… However, seeing them move around and do their day-to-day chores, seeing them live, made him feel a little less like the world was gone, for him. They were hope, even if they were annoying as hell.

He picked up the small pack that Lori had made for him, with his portion of the food, and all of his belongings. She had cleaned his things up, and Shane had cleaned his guns, putting them all back in his saddlebags. Daryl sighed. He didn't want these folks to get it in their minds that he needed them, or anything from them. He could fend for himself. He could do things on his own. He just needed a chance to get his feet on the ground, like right now, and he would be on his way.

Inside the pack peeked out a little piece of paper. Daryl narrowed his eyes, and reached forward to grab it. He didn't remember leaving anything like that in his bags. He didn't carry lists, or anything. He was a man. He smirked, and pulled the paper from under the boxes of food, his smile turning downward immediately. It was a photograph. He and Merle looked filthy, from working their asses off on the farm. Shan's father had his arm around Daryl's thin neck, like a father, holding his body tightly against his chest, with a huge smile on his face. Shan hung off her father's arm, her red hair pulled into a French braid, and her smile radiating through the rest of them. It was one of the few times that Daryl had ever smiled in photos, but on that day he was happy. The old farmer had invited Daryl and Merle for a picnic, and a day off. He had a family, for a few hours. He and Merle weren't alone…for a few hours…

He didn't even realize the tears that were trying to form, pooling along the rims of his eyes. He didn't realize how hard this would hit him. He didn't realize how much he actually gave a shit about that farm, and about his brother. The fact that he wasn't with him, and the fact that he couldn't go back and check on the old man, check on Shan, was killing him, inside. He folded the picture over, folding out Merle, and Shan's father, and sniffled, wiping his face, before he placed the photo in the mesh lantern holder at the top of his tent.

"That your family?", a female voice called from the door of the tent. Daryl straightened himself up, clearing his throat and glanced out, seeing Lori there.

"Nah…just some familiar faces.", Daryl said quietly, diverting his eyes from hers. She gave a sad look, and extended her arms, which carried blankets and a pillow. Daryl turned to her, a little shaky, and took the blankets, "Um…Thanks. You don't need none for yer kid?"

"We have plenty. There's no sense in you going cold out here. You really should move your tent closer. Shane wanted me to try and…coax you.", she said, taking a seat in front of the tent, which caused Daryl to sigh. She was overstaying her welcome, and he didn't know how to tell her, because she had just given him some damn blankets.

"Well, I don't wanna…", he said softly, "I ain't never needed no company, and I don't need to start now…"

"That my baby brother's voice I hear in there?", the sound of Merle's voice perked Daryl up even more, and a smile came to Lori's face, as she scooted herself from the door, to let Daryl escape the tent. He did, looking up at Merle with huge eyes, "Well damn, son! If you don't look like shit…come 'ere."

Daryl laughed, and grabbed Merle into a tight hug, slapping his back with loud pops, "How the hell did you get out, man? You didn't take nothin'..And there was blood."

"It's a long story. Let's just say that the little bitch that tried to shoot me doesn't have much of a head left…and I stole his car…Easy as pie, right?", Merle explained, pulling Daryl away and slapping him hard on the shoulder.

"Yeah…pie…", Daryl mused, looking Merle over.

"What about the farmer…and…"

"I ain't found 'em. If they made it out, they prolly went South…", Daryl said slowly, which caused Merle's face to turn downward in pity. He wasn't ever one for pity, as Daryl remembered, but he seemed sorry.

"I'm sorry, son…"

Daryl simply nodded, crossing his arms uncomfortably, and shifted from one foot to the other. It was then that Lori decided to speak up.

"Maybe they went to Atlanta. We couldn't get there, but since you came from there…your family…"

"They ain't my family…", Daryl stopped her quickly, and the silence that engulfed them almost caused him to cringe. He was falling back into his nature: The snappy, over reactive guy that everyone avoided. Good. Maybe people would leave him alone.

"Well…", Lori started, "I'll let you get settled in, and we'll have dinner in a little while. I'm glad you are both alright…"

Daryl wanted to reach out a hand to her. He wanted to thank her for all that she had done, and for taking him in, but it wasn't in his nature. It wasn't something that he would do in front of Merle. He didn't owe her anything…

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"COME BACK HERE!", was the last thing that really registered in my mind, as I tried to get away. I didn't take into account the fact that the men were driving Jeeps, and they were great at driving, to add to everything.

"C'mon Riot! Get…get get!", I yelled, popping the ropes against the back of Riot's neck. He ran as fast as his body would carry him. I wished at that moment that we could stop, and I could thank him. I had a feeling he wasn't going to make it much further. I had a feeling that I should have just left him. He would have survived until the grass was gone, or one of those people found him. Either way, we were running for our lives.

As the Jeeps basically surrounded us, I leaned down, tightening my body to Riot's neck, before I heard a gunshot, and the world began twisting in all sorts of ways. I was flying, uncontrollably flipping head over heels, as if Riot had simply stopped running, and I had gone overboard; because I had. Before I knew it, I slammed into the ground, my head bouncing off like a cheap basketball, and a pain shot through my leg; it was heavy.

"Oh my god…Oh no no no…Ahaha…", I groaned, reaching forward to where my knee was supposed to be. The pain was out of control. I couldn't move, and I couldn't see through the fountain of blood running into my eyes, "Riot…C'mon. You have to get up, buddy…"

Riot's head was moving, but he didn't seem to be able to move his body or legs. So, I started pulling. It was all I could do. I pulled, with all of my strength, and my leg slowly began to slip free, with some excruciating pain. I groaned loudly, gritting my teeth. I didn't care if the men heard me. They knew where I was. If they really wanted to kill me, they could come do it.

"Well. Look at this…", one of the men mused, looking me over as I tried to pull myself free. His eyes were hungry, and he eyed my guns, as well as my tight jeans. My stomach lurched.

"J-just leave…me alone. I'm only trying to find someone. If you'll help me get him up, I'll be gone…", I stuttered out, my body shaking from shock. I looked the men over. All of them were pretty clean, and they all held blunt objects as weapons, except their ring leader, who carried a sniper rifle.

"Who you trying to find? We'll take you to them, scout's honor…", he said slowly, looking down at Riot with sad eyes, "…sorry about your horse…"

I realized quickly what the gunshot had hit. Instantly, I lost it. Riot was the only piece of Daryl I had left, and I had lost him too. Tears flooded my face, and the man kneeled, shooting Riot in the temple, without hesitation. I reached out for him, as the world moved in slow motion. I'm sure the scream that escaped my mouth was inhuman, as I grabbed a handful of mane, and screamed for his life.

"NO!", I yelled out, before lying my head back, still trapped under the giant's dead weight. I was suffering. Drawing this out wasn't helping anything. Daryl was dead, in this new…whatever this was. I had killed his horse, and I was alone, "Just do it…"

The man turned his head to the side, and narrowed his eyes, as he looked at me, confused. He reached a hand down, and pulled my hair from my face, taking some of my blood with it.

"Do what? I don't want to hurt you, baby. I want to help you out, if you help us out…"

"Help you out, how?", I asked, closing my eyes, "I just want to find someone…and you can have all the weapons…the money…whatever you want."

"Who…are you looking for..?", the man asked me, before kissing my cheek, and signaling to his henchmen. They began lifting riot off of my leg, much to my dismay. The further he was lifted, the more pain I seemed to feel. My stomach was in knots as I realized what they wanted from me, what they wanted me for…

"D-Dar-Daryl. Daryl Dixon…", I stammered out, and the men stopped, glancing over to their leader. My eyes shot open, "Do you…know Daryl?"

"Yeah! I know Daryl real well! He bought a bunch of motorcycle parts from my ole man back in the day. He's…well…", he looked to his henchmen with a look that didn't convince me a bit, "He's with us. He's part of our group. We're not too far from here, if you want to go with us. We'll get you all cleaned up, and he'll be glad to see you…however he ended up with you…"

"How do I know you're not lying?", I asked him, pulling my leg free and scooting back from him, as I grabbed the handle of my bag. The men stayed silent, letting my shock wear off a bit, and they seemed to be waiting for me to submit to them. So, I did what I felt was best. I crawled up to Riot's head, rubbing his lifeless nose, "I'm so sorry, boy…so so sorry…"

I felt dead inside, the sobs ringing from my lips. I didn't really care. I honestly could have cared less. The men lifted me from the ground, with no answer, pulling me away from Riot's body. I couldn't help but fight against them, as they looked through my bag, and unloaded my shotgun.

I wasn't afraid of the world, anymore. I was afraid of what living another day would mean, now that I was in 'good company'. Maybe they were telling the truth, or maybe it was a pipe dream, and I would die at the hands of the living.

**Note: I know...I'm terrible. How dare I kill the only piece of Daryl she had left? Well...I had to kill her spirit. I promise it makes things better for the future chapters :) Review Review Review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Safe

**Note: I have worked longer than I meant to on this chapter, but I like the way it turned out. I hope you like it and R&R. I am proud of it. WARNING - It's a bit violent, and insinuates rape...**

Chapter 4: Safe

12 days went by. I counted them, as the sun barely peeked through the boards of whatever room the men were keeping me in. The sun rose each morning, and set each night, just as it should, and I stayed in place, with no will to move an inch. They had locked me down, inside of an old house. Every night, they would come in, and have their way with me. I saw a light, and some cheap tile on the other side of the door. That's all I knew. It didn't matter if I knew where I was. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't exactly call anyone for help, and who would come, if I could? I had given up on escaping, deciding that the men would never give me the opportunity.

I scooted my sore body toward the tiny holes, watching the rain pour down outside. I hadn't seen a 'sick' person in days. The men that had attacked me had apparently found a way to keep them at bay, or at least to keep the sounds and scents of themselves from radiating to the outside. I wasn't much of a give away, since my ass had been planted in the same spot, almost the entire time I had been locked in here.

As I scooted, the smell from my bloody jeans hit my nose, and I scrunched it up. The dried blood had obviously soured, and the damp floor just made the smell come to life that much more. I groaned, though not much more than a wheeze escaped my lips, as I bent my legs up to my chest. I was still covered, from head to toe in my own blood; as well as Riot's. I was embarrassed, and I half wished that there would be some sort of cop looking for me. Maybe the world hadn't ended, just the world that Atlanta knew, and there were cops that would find me, and my story would be on the evening news. I would be a hero, for surviving this long on scraps and drainage water. I would be rewarded.

Another pipe dream, I reminded myself, as I had zoned out, staring at the raindrops hitting the puddles. Maybe I would die today. Maybe today was the perfect day to let go, and just escape this world; what was left of it. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, attempting to let myself drift away.

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Daryl spent much of his morning lying awake. It couldn't have been later than 2 a.m. when the rain had started, bringing memories and sorrow with it. He stared up toward the shadow of the moon, through the thin canvas tent, and watched the droplets roll through the pale light As he stared through them, he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. He felt like screaming out in agony. He felt like breaking someone's face and blaming them, running through the woods and just screaming. It wouldn't solve anything, but it would be more satisfying than lying here, wondering if the only family he ever had was dead or alive.

He stared at the picture, barely able to make out the shades of color by flash of lightning. The memories flooded of days when the old man would let him take shelter in the barn, drinking tea and eating biscuits with He and Shan, as if he were good company. Summer showers were what he wished for, because he was able to get paid, while spending time with his 'family'.

Lying there, he made up his mind. He was going to gather Merle, and his things, and they were going to the farm. They were going home. He was going to get everyone, and they were going on the road, together. He would give Shan the best life he could, with what little he had, and her father would love him, as he always had. It would sure as hell beat the life he had here, around a bunch of strangers, determined to feed him help that he didn't want in the first place. He didn't need anyone…except Merle.

As the sun rose, he let out a ragged sigh, wondering what the world would hold today. The group knew where they stood with Daryl. They left him alone. He left them alone. He hunted. They were allowed to eat his food. In return for food, they gave him space, and spoke to him when spoken to. It was a satisfying agreement, in Daryl's opinion. It was quiet, and lonely, and perfect…

He sat up, running a hand through his damp hair, and pulled on a tank top from his pile of clothes Lori had washed. Despite the rain, today seemed like a good day to hunt. Today seemed like a good day to forget the world was ending. Grabbing his crossbow from the foot of his sleeping area, he unzipped his tent and ducked out of it, tapping the door of the tent not two feet from his own.

"Yo, Merle…", he croaked out, his morning voice shining through, much to his embarrassment. He hated being so soft spoken, but it wasn't something he could help, like Merle.

"What the hell you wakin' me up at the ass crack of dawn for, son?", Merle answered, not even moving, as far as Daryl could tell.

"Just lettin' you know where I'm goin'. I'm gonna go kill some squirrel…", Daryl explained, pulling his hand up to chew on his fingers, nervously. He almost felt as if he was asking permission, at this point.

"Do what you do…I think I'm gonna make a run with Andrea and them to the city. You sure you don't wanna go?"

"Nah. I don't care much for the company…know what I mean?", Daryl replied, sighing. He was racist by default, but really, he just didn't want to venture back to Atlanta. The city was overrun. The city was gone, but apparently a lot of supplies remained.

"Whatever. Do what you do…", Merle repeated.

Daryl rose from his squatted position, and made his way down the hill, alone.

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Someone picking me up from the ground awakened me. I opened my eyes, staring up at my savior, but realized quickly that I was a lamb, headed to slaughter. I don't know why the thought rang through my brain, but my body acted before my mind. I twisted out of the man's grip, falling onto the ground, and smashed my head, again. I groaned a bit, feeling for blood, in the endless sticky mess that was my hair. Feeling none, I stood from the ground and stumbled, my legs suddenly turning to Jello under my body weight. I fell to my knees and began scrambling around the room for anything I could find. It was then that I caught a glimpse of a plastic fork, in the corner.

Really, Shan? A plastic fork?

"Hey hey hey! Come 'ere. Nobody here wants to hurt you, sweetheart…", the man said to me softly, bending to me to stroke my hair. I scrambled away from him, eliciting a laugh from his heavy chest. He slowly walked to where I was crawling, and grabbed my hair, roughly. I stretched a hand out to the corner, and slapped the fork, taking it quietly into my hand. As the man pulled my back into his chest, and brought his hands around to grab and grope at me, I gritted my teeth, breaking the fork off with my thumb. Dropping the fork end, I felt the tip of the handle, smirking at its sharpness, before gripping it tightly and swinging it over my shoulder.

I stabbed several times at the man's face, making contact every time. However, the last swing made contact with my target and the scream that the man let off pierced my eardrums, as he dropped me to the ground. I hit my knees, groaning at the pain, and stood, standing tall over the man. I don't know what came over me at that moment, as I stared at his fat, sweaty face. The fork handle protruded from what was left of his mangled eye. I don't know what in the world possessed me to, but I brought my booted foot down on the fork handle, and the man stopped writhing, as it pierced through the rest of his eye and into his brain. He didn't even make a sound, as they do in the movies. He just…stopped.

I didn't break. I bent down, taking a knee beside the man as I began going through his pockets. I didn't find much. There were a few crumpled bills, as well as receipts that dated a back further than a month. I threw all of the useless paper aside and continued rummaging through his pockets for anything of use. I found a tiny box of bullets in his jacket pocket, and I slid them into my shirt pocket with a shaky hand. I was just realizing what I had done, and I couldn't help but close my eyes and breathe. I breathed, deeply through my nose, seeing Daryl's baby blue eyes. I could hear his voice in my head, telling me to continue, to get past the blood and move on, to kill my way out of this building…to use what he had taught me about self-defense, and get back to him.

With a renewed lease on the situation, I opened my eyes, now devoid of tears and all care for this man. I ripped his gun from his pants, recognizing it as my .357 Magnum revolver. I sighed, holding the gun's cold side against my forehead as I thought about my current predicament. I had one gun – six bullets at a time – and my body. Pulling the gun down from my face, I opened the chamber, seeing that it was fully loaded. I flicked the chamber closed with my wrist, and pressed the safety, before I stood, walking to the door. I closed my eyes again, seeing Daryl's face, nodding to me with a finger pressed to his lips. He was guiding me to be quiet as I slowly turned the knob and opened my eyes.

I narrowed my eyes, holding the Python close to my chest, as I looked around the room in front of me. It seemed to be some sort of kitchen. There were two men, sitting with their backs to the door, drinking coffee, and I assumed that they were the only two in the room, by the fact that only one other chair was moved out, and Tiny was lying dead in my 'bedroom'. I thought twice about killing the two men, but thinking of Daryl's face, and how he would see things. How would he react after these men had raped me, fed me trash, and taken away any humanity I had in me? The thought pushed me forward, and I slipped around the corner of the doorframe as one of the men sat his coffee down. He stood from his chair, and I realized that I had to do something…now.

There was no more time to pity these wretched men. There was only vengeance, and a ticket out of this hellhole. I reached the sink, my shaky hands blindly searching the length of the counter, before settling on a knife handle. I wasn't sure that it was for sure a knife, but I had to believe. As the handle skidded across the counter, the men both turned on me, and I had another moment of truth before me. I stepped forward, and with a battle cry, I drove the meat fork into the standing man's throat, pushing him away as he gargled and grasped at the blood fountain that erupted. The second man was an easy kill, as he seemed too stupid to understand the threat. As he turned around, I stared him in the eyes – the man that had raped me, every single night, the man that had placed a gun to my head, and in my mouth, as if he got some freaky sexual pleasure from hearing the metal clash against my teeth, the man who had taken away every bit of innocence I was attempting to hold onto in this broken world.

Without much more hesitation, I placed the Python Barrel up to his lips, and pulled the trigger, cringing as the bullet blew teeth and brain matter around the room. A scream left my lips, as I stepped back from the table, where both bodies laid.

I was free.

Why did I feel so dead?

I had what I wanted.

"Oh my god…", I sobbed, bringing my hand, gun and all, up to the top of my head, grasping my hair. I let out another blood curdling scream, and hit my knees. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the bloody tile. It was as if I was high, on some sort of drug. Maybe it was the high that serial killers felt. Either way, I knew I had to move. I didn't know how many of them there really were, and I didn't figure they would be too happy to come back and see what was left of their mates. So, I peeled my sticky jeans from the floor and looked around the room for my shotgun.

The wet air took my breath away, as I faced the sunlight. I squinted my eyes, stumbling down the front steps of the house, and onto the sidewalk below. I clutched my shotgun to my side, as I caught the first glimpse of Walkers in what was left of this part of the city. They didn't seem to want anything to do with me, as I walked by them. I tried to walk quietly, and it seemed to work, as I turned down an alleyway. I had no idea what way to go. I had no idea what part of the city was overrun, and what part wasn't. I was alone, or so I thought.

"Don't leave me! Oh jesus! Please! You rot in hell!", I heard from above me, and I began spinning around, looking for the voice. The faint shadow of a man running along the rooftop caught my eye, and I tried to contact him.

"Hey!", I wheezed out, in not much more than a whisper, "Hey, down here!"

The shadow disappeared, but the voice didn't. He kept screaming, and for a second, I thought I recognized that scream. I thought I recognized that hoarse voice, as it called out, and begged for help. It was desperate, and terrified. I looked around for a ladder, or anything that could get me to the roof of the building, and saw nothing. Really? There was no way up, or down, for that matter?

That was when I heard it. The alarm. I pulled my shotgun closer again, and ran toward it, as did the Walkers around me. The orange Dodge Challenger sped by, stopped, and backed up a bit, before stopping again. I followed the Walkers to the window, where I noticed a young Asian man, who looked determined, but terrified. This was my golden moment to escape the city.

"Hey!", I wheezed again, banging on the window. He looked at me, apparently seeing me as another walker, and started to back up, before taking a double take.

"Holy shit!", he yelled, squinting to take in my appearance. I didn't know I looked that terrible, "Follow me. Run…go now! Follow me!"

With that, he took off again, getting the Walkers off of the vehicle, and waited for me. After a second's deliberation, I heard him scream at me to come on. Come on, I did. I took off running, as fast as my jelly legs would carry me, and opened the door to the Challenger, climbing in, just in time for him to stomp the gas, backing us up and spinning us around, before taking off again without a word. Who was this man to trust me, and why should I trust him?

I pulled my Python, and placed it to his temple, "What's your name?"

His breath hitched, but he kept driving, pushing his foot a little further into the floorboard, "Glenn…M-my name is Glenn…"

"Where are we headed?", I asked, making sure that there was authority in my voice.

"My-my group. We're a little ways out of the city…I'll…I'll take you there. There's food, and I'm sure that one of the w-women will have clothes you can change into…I promise…"

"Women?", I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Yeah. We have several of them…even a little girl. W-we can take care of you. Look. I don't know what's happened to you, but…you're safe, now…"

"Safe…"

"Yeah. You're safe. I promise…", he repeated, looking over to me, despite the cold barrel that brushed his forehead as he did so. I sighed, the sore muscles of my shoulder relaxing a bit, and lowered my gun to my lap. I could sense him relaxing as well, "Just, enjoy the ride, okay?"

I almost smiled at his humanity, staring out the window. I didn't know if this was real, but it was real for now, "Safe…".

Glenn's face looked sad, from what I could make out in my peripheral vision. He watched me, the whole way out of the city, and when he realized I was calm, he let out a howl, which elicited a small smile from me. We left Atlanta in the dust, the alarm screaming all the way out of the city limits.

**Note: I'm not making my character a Mary-Sue, before a ton of people start unsubscribing. I just wanted to make her panic modes more realistic than some stories tend to. I couldn't see myself not fighting back, after getting enough of their shit, so to say. I couldn't see a character I created not being sketchy of Glenn, since he just helped her. The last people to 'help' her, tortured her. **

**Who's ready for the reunion?! You can review with your ideas for the reunion, but I warn you - The ideas floating in my head will probably tear your feels apart. :)**


	5. Chapter 5: Feels Like Home - Part 1

**Note: I want to thank everyone who has followed and favorited...and reviewed. It makes me want to write for you guys so much more! Here's the thing about this chapter: I promised that Daryl and Shan would be reunited in chapter 5. Well, they won't. If I reunited them here, I would have to write a 6,000 word chapter, and that's pretty ridiculous. So, I'm splitting it into two chapters. I will post the second one in an hour or so. **

**Enjoy this one, for now. I'm pretty proud of it. :) R&R!**

Chapter 5: Feels Like Home - Part 1

"Can I ask your name?", Glenn's voice scared me, and out of instinct, I pulled my gun up from my lap, switching the safety off, and pulling the hammer back, before realizing that it was just…Glenn. He was asking a question. He was sparking conversation. I sighed, noticing that we were both breathing heavily, and lowered the hammer back to its safe position, "Never mind. I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Shan...", I whispered, and Glenn nodded, nervously. His breath was still shaky, as we began slowing down, turning down different roads and traveling across pastures. We were almost 'home', "Why were you in Atlanta?"

He seemed almost shocked to death that I asked him a question, and he took a couple of seconds to process what I had actually said. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he turned to me, "We were going for supplies. We ended up getting caught up by Walkers…"

"Walkers?", I asked, feeling the word roll of my tongue. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I had never heard anyone put a name to them before.

"Yeah. They're dead people, walking around in the streets. I'm sure you've seen…", Glenn explained, and I nodded, stopping his words. I didn't need an explanation of the Walkers. They were zombies, by the American definition. They were dead, rotting corpses, walking around – looking to eat people. Glenn was at least smart enough to read my expressions. He was at least smart enough to understand that I wasn't dumb, and he didn't have to explain the new world to me. I knew it was fucked. I knew it was broken.

The alarm continued to ring through the trees as we pulled into a makeshift parking lot, and a swarm of men ran to the car. Glenn stepped out of the car, proudly, as if he was driving a trophy for the rest of the group. However, the group's reactions were not welcoming. They came screaming, banging on the hood of the car, and scolding Glenn for driving back this way. I could see the anger boiling, and the fact that the group hadn't noticed me yet. I pulled my gun up and waited for Glenn to guide me out, though I would have been happy to stay in the car.

Glenn sunk back into the seat, his hands raised in surrender, "Alright!"

He popped the hood, which led to the men opening it in panic. Soon enough, the alarm stopped, and silence engulfed us. Correction: Silence magnified the panicked screams, and questions. I slid myself down the back of my seat, and sighed. Maybe I should get out and run. I would fair a lot better in the woods than I would relying on people who didn't seem too happy to see their own man come back untouched.

"I got a cool car…", I heard Glenn say, which caused everyone to look the car over. Their voices ceased as they caught the first glimpse of me. I heard a few choice words, such as 'walker' and 'blood'. Yep. They described me to a 't'. I smelled like death. I was covered in blood. I had no desire to burden these people. So, when the apparent leader of the group opened the passenger side door and drug me out, I didn't resist too much, but held my Python to my chest.

"Look at this! Were you bit?", he asked me, his voice reminding me of a Cop, "Were you BIT?! Yes or no?"

"No…", I whispered, looking to Glenn, whose eyes apologized for the entire group. He placed his hands on the top of his head, and stepped forward.

"Shane! She's fine! I don't think it's her blood…", Glenn yelled, grabbing Shane's arm. As Shane reacted by wrenching his arm away from Glenn, I pulled my Python to his forehead, which caused Glenn to step back, "…Forgot to mention that she's a little touchy."

"Thanks for that.", Shane said, holding his hands up as he stared at me. He wasn't sure about my motives, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He lowered his shotgun, and I noticed out of the corner of my eyes a woman and her son stepping back from the group. I assumed they were his family, "You say you're not bit…okay. Let's just…put the gun down, and relax. How bout that? You wouldn't be here if you didn't need help…"

"I ain't bit…", I repeated, my shaky hand pushing the gun further into his head.

"Sh-Shan…", Glenn said, reaching his hand up. He had balls. I had to give him credit. His hand touched the top of mine, and began pulling the gun down, but before I could relax, I caught the glimpse of black. A shotgun butt smashed into my face, knocking me out.

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Daryl sighed as the day began winding down. He had a few squirrels wrapped around his body on a rope, and his crossbow draped over his back. If he started back now, he would never make it before sundown and trying could draw Walkers to camp. So, he started walking, figuring he would find a place to burrow down, after it actually got dark. He could start a small fire, and eat a squirrel. Then, tomorrow, he would feed his burden with the spoils of his labor.

He scoffed. His burden…that's truly what they were. That's how he thought of them every day. If a group of Walkers took them away, he could care less. One less person living was one less person to feed. That wasn't really what he thought, was it? That wasn't his nature at all. He was quiet, yeah, but he wasn't someone who sent lambs to the slaughterhouse, just because he was sick of them. He slapped himself hard in the face, ashamed of the thoughts that plagued him. This world was shifting his mind. It was doing things to him, and he didn't know himself, anymore.

Something moved in the trees, and he turned his head sharply towards it. The white tail of a deer flipped up and the deer began to run. Without much of a thought, Daryl pulled his crossbow from his back, and shot at it, hitting it's vital area perfectly, but the damn thing kept running.

"Shit…", he complained, before running after it. At least it was running the right way, right toward camp. As he ran, he pulled the string of his crossbow back and placed another arrow on it, finding a stopping point above the deer as it ran. He shot, and wounded it in the ass. It kept running, much to his dismay. He followed it a little further, giving it one more arrow in the hip, to try and bring it down. It was useless. He could only hope that it would stay on the same path, and would drop sometime during the night. The sun was going down at a rapid pace, and he had to stop. He had to bundle up, and wait out the night.

Finding a suitable tree, Daryl grabbed a low, thick branch, hoisting himself up onto it. He walked the branch, like a tight rope, to the center of the tree, and sat down. The tree felt like a cage, around him, but at least he would be protected from Walkers, and his habit of thrashing in his sleep. After a few minutes of staring into the oncoming darkness, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

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Waking up was tough. I turned my head to one side, squinting my eyes at the sun. I could make out the trees, or at least their shadows, as I stared up at the ceiling. Could you call it a ceiling? I was apparently inside of a tent. I sighed, bringing my hand up to run it through my hair. It only took a second to realize that my hair was clean. It was clean? I pulled it around to my face and smelled it, recognizing the cheap shampoo that radiated from my damp, but clean hair.

Laying my head back, I smiled a bit. Glenn was right. I was safe. I was…safe. I sat up, quickly regretting the action, as my head injury was jarred. The pain was nothing, compared to the quick urge to vomit. I stayed still, in my sitting position for a few seconds, before reaching for the zipper of my tent. It was brand new. It even still had the new smell, and some extra parts were stuffed inside of a mesh pocket on the wall. I smirked, wondering if one of them had found it for themselves, and was selfless enough to give it to me. I was grateful, and I would let them know soon enough.

I unzipped the door and peeked out. The camp was buzzing. A woman I didn't recognize was ironing clothes. I could hear the laughter and joking of children in the distance, as other members did various things, like gathering wood or hanging clothes out to dry. It was hard to believe that this was still the world. People still had their humanity, amongst all of the death and destruction around them. It was hope, in a tiny little package. This was hope.

I pulled back from the door, and looked down at what I was wearing. I was in a pair of men's boxers, and a white t-shirt that seemed to be a few sizes too big. Someone had even gone through the trouble of placing socks on my feet, which made me smile. I had a lot of thanking to do, now that my mind was straight. I looked around, seeing a thin hoodie folded in the corner, along with my boots. The boots were clean, which was insane. I reached down and grabbed both, pulling the hoodie over my head, and my boots onto my feet, one at a time. Once properly dressed, minus my pants, I looked around for my gun. I knew they would have stolen it. Surely, after the fit I threw, they stole it from me.

There it was, right there in the corner. It was broken down, and the bullets were missing. Next to it was a tiny note card.

_I want to apologize for last night, but I'd rather talk without bullets, for now. - Shane_

I smiled, and closed the chamber of my revolver, tossing it onto my bed, with the note. I then exited the tent, brushing myself off. A bit of the hustle and bustle stopped, and people watched me. I couldn't read them, really. Either they were terrified of me, or they were just worried about my appearance. I couldn't see myself, but I could only assume I looked awful. I walked over to the woman at the ironing board, as she gave me a soft smile. She was ironing a stained uniform, which made me sigh, thinking of what had gone down with Shane. Now that I was calm, and I could think about my actions, I realized that we were both a little on edge, and I had overstepped my welcome.

"I wanna ask if you slept okay, but I didn't hear a peep out of you. How's your head?", the woman asked me, her face concerned. I brought a hand up to my forehead, and winced a bit as my fingers touched the bandaged wound.

"It's okay…", I whispered, giving her a smile. I lowered my eyes, and stepped forward, "…need any help?"

"No. You go and get you some breakfast…I'll finish up here."

"Alright…", I said. I was still a little skittish around these people, but the woman seemed harmless enough. I patted the ironing board, and turned away from her, making my way to the fire ring. I met another woman there, and turned my mouth halfway up in a crooked smirk. I wanted to show her friendliness, but in return, she lowered her eyes and sighed. I didn't even have to try. I had pulled a gun on her husband, I assumed. She had every right to not trust me. I lowered my own eyes, and looked past her to Glenn, who was smiling widely. He looked as if he was absolutely glowing to see me up and moving around, and his smile spread to my own face.

"You look like shit!", he mused, dropping wood by the fire. He straightened himself up and reached up to brush my hair off of my face. He brushed his thumb over the bandage, and hissed a bit, "Shane got you pretty good. How are you feeling?"

"Sore…embarrassed…", I answered in a lowered voice, pulling the hair behind my ears. Glenn flinched when our hands touched, and shoved his into his pockets, in apology. I swallowed hard, and looked to the ground.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Carol...and Jaqui, they cleaned you up. After what you've been through…", Glenn started, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering how much of my body the women had actually been able to see in lantern light, "I mean…no one's judging you. That's what I'm trying to say. There's no way we could ever imagine…I should just shut up…"

I smiled, "Glenn. Relax. I'm fine."

Glenn's eyes weren't convincing as he nodded, and let out the breath he was holding in. I started to hope, at that second that I could redeem myself, in some way. I didn't want to be the outcast with a gun. I didn't want to be remembered forever as the freak that had almost blown their leader's head off. Hell, I didn't even know that they would let me stay, after my outburst.

"You know where Shane is?", I asked, and he shook his head, before glancing over my shoulder with a sad look. I turned, seeing two of the men from camp tearing the Challenger apart. I looked back to Glenn with sad eyes, and a sad smile to go with it, before pushing past him to get some food. The food was normal road food, but I was grateful as I grabbed a can of beans from an outstretched hand. I smiled, sitting down on a log, next to the dark skinned lady, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You had us worried. We all thought you were Walker food…", she said with a laugh. I let out my own small chuckle, spooning some beans into my mouth, "But once we got you cleaned up, you looked normal. What happened to your head?"

I halted my chewing for a second, looking down at the can, which caused the woman to sigh. She felt guilty for asking, and I felt guilty for her feeling guilty, "I fell from a horse…"

"A horse? You got that hole in the back of your head from falling from a horse?", she asked, a little amazed. It wasn't completely true. One of the men had preferred me unconscious. So, every time he came in, he brought something to hit me with. How it didn't kill me, I couldn't tell you. I was reluctant to tell that story, for now. So, I nodded, and the woman dropped the conversation. She didn't believe a word I said, but at least she quit before I lost my appetite. I finished off my can of beans, and she placed a hand on my bandaged knee, "I'm Jaqui, and I want you to know that I am here, baby. Anything you need to say…get off your chest…I'm here…"

I stared at her with wide eyes, tears threatening mine, and nodded. She was putting me in an awkward situation, treating me like a battered woman, or something. I looked down at her hand, and she removed it, taking my empty can from me with a smile. The roar of gravel under tires flooded the camp as Shane returned with water. He yelled out a reminder to boil, and went to work on his own duties. Jaqui brought me from my stare, as she noticed the pity in my eyes, "How's about we fix your hair. I know you came from somewhere, and that nappy head of hair hasn't always looked so nasty…am I right?"

I nodded, letting the tears pool and fall as she held her arms out for me to turn around. I turned, and felt her carefully run her fingers through my hair, twisting and turning it. It hurt a bit, but it was nice. The simple bit of attention was nice, because these hands wouldn't hurt me. These hands wouldn't torture me. These hands were simply here to nurture. I felt as if I was home. A scream caused me to jump out of my skin. Those were children. They were in distress, and honestly, I wanted to see what the distress was. The whole camp turned and ran, as the children screamed about something. Jaqui held me firmly in place, placing a band around her finished creation. I turned to her, my eyes questioning if she was going to run after the children or not. What I received was a solemn shake of the head, and another hand on my knee, telling me to stay put.


	6. Chapter 6: Feels Like Home - Part 2

**Note: Here's part two. I warned you guys a couple of chapters ago about the reunion chapter. Well, here it is kiddies. Enjoy it. R&R!**

Chapter 6: Feels Like Home – Part 2

Daryl was awakened by his own nightmare. It startled him so badly that he had to grab the tree limb, to keep from falling. He steadied his breathing, pushing himself back into his natural cage and began gathering his things back onto his body. He pulled the squirrels over his arm and around his neck, and then picked up his crossbow. It was time to track this damn deer. Walking back along the branch that he had climbed up on, he jumped down, and stumbled drowsily over to the area where he had last seen the deer. There was the blood.

Smirking, Daryl began following the blood trail, "Like breadcrumbs…", he mumbled, as the blood got worse and worse. He was drawing nearer and nearer to camp, and the thought of his deer dying at the back door was satisfying. It would be less work for he and Merle, if Merle hadn't already grabbed it and cut it up. He could only hope that was the case.

A couple of hours later, he sighed, as the puddles of blood grew larger and larger. One of his arrows had fallen out, and was lying in the gravel, just outside of camp. He leaned down and picked it up, before continuing into camp. As the trees parted onto the drive, Daryl came face to face with Shane's shotgun barrel and he stepped back a bit, his hand on his crossbow. It was then that he caught a glimpse of the Walker that had been chewing on his damn deer.

"Son of a bitch…", he complained, stepping the rest of the way out of the tree coverage, "That's my deer! Look at it all knawned on by this...", he proceeded to take out his aggression on the Walker, kicking it and cussing it. The rest of the group flinched, watching the commotion, before Dale stepped up. Dale…in his stupid hat, the old man didn't know when to shut the hell up, and this was one of those times, as frustrated as Daryl was – Dale should have kept his mouth shut.

"Calm down son. That's not helping…", Dale said to him, holding his hand out. Daryl's face melted into annoyance as he stepped forward, and put himself in Dale's face.

"What you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to…", he started, before Shane stepped in and raised a hand to stop him. He didn't have to listen to Shane. Sometimes it was easier to, though. He pointed at Dale's face, and turned, walking back over to his deer, "I've been tracking this damn thing for miles. You think we can cut around the eaten parts?"

"No. We're not risking it…", Shane answered him, placing his hands on his hips. Daryl could tell that he was tiptoeing around him, for some reason. Maybe they had finally gotten enough of him, and were going to kick him out of the group. Great. Wonderful. He could take Merle and be gone, if the son of a bitch would follow him.

"That's a damn shame…", Daryl said, shaking his head, "I got us some squirrel, though. Bout a dozen. It'll have to do."

The head of the Walker woke up, snarling and biting around, and Daryl sighed, pointing his Crossbow down at it. He fired an arrow between it's eyes, and looked up at Shane, as if he was embarrassed to know him, "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin'?"

With that, he pushed past them, ready to show Merle how good supper was going to be. He strutted into camp, ignoring Lori's looks of annoyance, and yelled out, "Yo Merle! Get that ass out he'ah! I got us some squirrel!"

"Daryl, why don't you slow up, I wanna talk to you bout somethin'.", Shane called out to him, causing him to turn and look at the whole group, as they waited for him to lose his shit, "It's bout Merle…"

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I waited with Jaqui, staring at the fire, to see if the members of camp all came back okay. The thoughts resonating through my brain were not soothing. I remembered the first Walker I killed, and how hungry she was. She came at me like I was a steak, and she hadn't eaten in months. I tried to remind myself that she wasn't human, but the fact that I had blown her head off, still haunted me. I stood from my place, and walked back to my tent, where I bent and entered it, picking up my pistol. A lot of good this hunk of metal was going to do me without bullets. I had no weapon. I couldn't protect these people. I could only stand back and hope that they all came back alive. From the sounds of those screams, it wasn't a puppy running by.

"It might not even be a Walker…", I whispered to myself, wiping the back of my scarred up hand across my upper lip. I didn't even realize that I was crying. The new freedom was overwhelming. I had to be nowhere, but alive. That was my job. I had to stay alive, as one more set of hands. If this group was to survive, we all had to be close, and we had to be alive. I repeated the word 'alive' to myself, several times, before wiping my face, and standing from the tent. I calmed myself, enough to walk over to the clothesline. My jeans were stained, and looked horrible, but were hanging there, both knees ripped out of them. I reached out to them, touching the fabric lightly. They were dry, or at least as dry as they could be in this humidity. I unpinned them, and sunk to the ground, absent-mindedly.

As I took my boots off, I zoned out at the sight of them in the grass. My mind floated back to the last night on the farm. Everything was so simple, only two weeks prior. My life revolved around taking care of my momma, and fooling around with Daryl. I did both very well, but a lot of good either of them did me. My mom was dead, and Daryl probably was too. His stubborn nature wouldn't last long with people like the ones I had met in Atlanta. He was probably lying in the street somewhere, with a bullet in his brain. These thoughts…why? I held the jeans in my lap, and broke. I looked myself over, first at my hands, and then at my legs, bandaged and wounded. I was broken, and alone…I sobbed. I let the pain flow from my eyes, and from my chest. Part of me wanted to scream, and part of me wanted to be alone to wallow in my self-pity. From a distance, I noticed Jaqui watching me. She had her own hand over her mouth, and I thought I could tell she was crying. I sniffled, after a few seconds, gathering myself.

"C'mon…get dressed and go help the nice people…", I murmured to myself, standing, and pulling my jeans over my sore legs. I winced here and there, as the rough denim scraped its way across my skin. Placing my feet back into my boots, I heard someone yell out. I knew that voice. I knew that voice like a favorite song. My look of shock and disbelief caused Jaqui to stand to her feet, reaching out for me as I stumbled toward the sound.

"Either he is or he ain't!", I heard the voice say. My body guided me forward as my mind rationalized what could have been going on. It told me not to get my hopes up, because the odds were definitely against me, here. Either it was in my head, or some cruel coincidence had brought a stranger here, that sounded exactly like Daryl. I heard scuffling as I rounded the corner, and noticed Shane letting a man go. The man didn't look quite like Daryl, from a distance, as he stared at the ground from his knees. He stood, and continued complaining to the group, before picking up a crossbow and a string of squirrels, walking toward me.

There was no way for me to hide the gasp that escaped my lips, along with the inhuman squeak of relief and surprise. Daryl. He was alive. He…was here. Jaqui grabbed me, to keep me away from him. Apparently they had seen his mad spells before. I had, and they tended to not be pretty. Smiling at the fact that they worried about such trivial things as Daryl's tantrums, I pushed Jaqui away from me, holding her hand for a second, as Daryl looked up from the ground.

Reading his face was impossible, but he stumbled a bit, stopping his fast walk to stare at me. I let out a sigh, and smiled brightly…but it wasn't returned.

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Daryl dried the tears that he could, picking up his pride along with his crossbow and squirrel. These assholes had left Merle to die on a rooftop, and now this 'Rick Grimes' guy was planning to go back for him? Hell, this guy probably only made it out because the China man was fast enough to save his ass. Daryl stopped a small sob from escaping, as he stumbled his way through camp, toward his own tent. He threw the squirrel onto the kitchen table, where Carol waited for them with an apologetic look, and he caught a glimpse of something he thought he would never see again in his life.

No one in this camp had red hair. The glimpse caused him to stumble to a stop, and to stare at the person who possessed it. He knew that face. He knew those cheekbones, and that crazy red hair, but he couldn't believe it. He stumbled back a bit, which caused the rest of the group to watch him carefully. He hadn't been drinking, and the shock from Merle's disappearance wasn't that strong, yet. They were going to get him. However…seeing someone back from the dead…

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It was then that Lori recognized me. Her eyes welled up with tears, as she reached out for Rick, and grabbed his shirt, covering her mouth. My own chest began heaving, as I stepped a bit closer to Daryl. I had no idea what was going on, to have him crying. He never cried. When his mother died, he had been stone cold, sitting with my father for hours. He hadn't really talked, but he definitely hadn't cried.

"Daryl?", I called out to him, reaching a hand out, as I stepped a bit closer. The group, besides Lori, exchanged glances of wonder. I hadn't seen him, and as far as they all knew, he had no family, besides Merle. His body was ridged, and he stood still, just staring at me. I couldn't tell from his expression if he wanted to punch me in the face, or hug me. So, I did what I could. I stepped up to him, toe to toe, and wrapped my arms around his midsection.

The second my hands touched his back, his knees buckled, and we fell to the ground. I didn't even make a sound as my knees slammed into the gravel. I didn't groan at the strain the action seemed to put on my entire body. I just held onto him, for dear life, as his body began to shake, and his face disappeared into my collarbone. I had my hope, right here.

"It's okay…It's gonna be okay…", I whispered, as a few cracked sobs escaped his lips, and disappeared into my shirt.

I think the rest of the group got it, as they all began reacting. The women mostly did the normal thing, placing a hand over their mouth, but the men smiled at each other. Shane actually smiled. His smile was relieved, and proud. I brought my face down, kissing Daryl's shoulder, while stroking his hair. I had never seen him like this.

I let him get it out. His body was completely limp against me, and after a few minutes of sitting on my knees, I sat back on my ass, pulling him to me. I shushed him, running my fingers through his sweaty hair for what seemed like forever, before he finally grew still. He traced the line of my jaw with his nose, pulling his face away from me, before looking me over. He brought a hand up to my chin, and rotated my face around, to see every scratch and bruise it held. I sighed, my own tears coming forward again as I watched him. Just watching his eyes move around, bloodshot, but alive, was enough for me. I could have watched him for hours.

"What the hell?", he asked me in a whisper. The rest of the group had begun doing their own things again, glancing at us every now and again. I smiled, looking down at my knees. They were bloodied again, and would have to be tended to, which I didn't figure Jaqui would mind helping with.

"It's a long story…It doesn't matter…", I answered him, which made him scoff.

"You show up out of nowhere…lookin' like this…and it don't matter?", he asked, his voice cracking a bit from the tears that still threatened his eyes. I sighed.

"Can't we just enjoy this? We're here. I'm here…alive. You are too! I thought you were dead, Daryl…", I explained in a complaint. He looked between my eyes, before he carefully backed away from me, and stood. He offered me a hand, which I took gladly, standing carefully to my feet. The rest of the group had stopped to watch us again, out of worry. He looked me over, his face annoyed that I would care. He had changed a bit. He was colder, harder, but I knew he was still himself. He turned off his emotions, and I could tell, as he spoke.

"I ain't dead…", he muttered, before stalking away from me, toward the R.V.

"So, that's it? Where are you going?", I called out to him, causing him to turn to me for a second.

"I'm going to get Merle. While they were playing rescue party to you and the new guy…he got left behind…", he spat at me, which shocked me a bit. I surrendered, letting my shoulders drop in defeat. Sure, it wasn't the reunion I had hoped for, but Merle was his brother. I couldn't be selfish.

"Go. Go get him. I'll be here…", I said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. He didn't have a particular facial expression, as he nodded and turned from me, finishing his walk to the RV. I knew Daryl well enough to know…in Daryl body language, he was the happiest man on earth, at that moment. He was thanking God, and whatever other bases he needed to touch, and for me, knowing that was enough.

**Note: From now on, Daryl P.O.V. will be very rare. I want his to be more of a diary type story. So, I want it to read almost like a diary. I did think that this was the best way to reunite them...showing how Daryl reacts to her being back, but has to have his priorities, and how she supports him, not matter what. Knowing he is alive is enough to help her sleep, with or without him. :)**

**Review review review! **

**The next chapter should be goooooood.**


	7. Chapter 7: So Much For Safe

**Note: I didn't get as much return from the last two chapters as I had hoped. I hope that everyone is still liking this. Either way, here is chapter 7. **

**In this chapter, even though Shan is a little slow to accept trust, and give it herself, you'll see a bit of that fall down, as Jacqui forces herself in. I hope you guys enjoy it. :)**

Chapter 7: So Much For Safe

I kicked at the gravel a bit, as the men started loading up a moving van to go fetch Merle, from Atlanta. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted to stop them. Merle was Daryl's brother, sure, but he wasn't someone to risk your life for. If he were placed in the same scenario, he wouldn't do the same for you. Why bother? I had to think of it from Daryl's point of view, though. It was his brother. Merle was the only thing that had been constant in Daryl's life, forever, and losing that…I couldn't imagine.

I sighed, crossing my arms, as a lot of the group kept staring. I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking I was going to lose my shit again. They were thinking that I was going to go postal, and shoot what was left of the group, in one temper tantrum. I sighed and instead, stalked over to Dale's RV, where Daryl stood.

"Do me a favor, okay?", I whispered to him, causing 'Rick Grimes' to look at me, his hand on his own Python. I couldn't tell if the action was to protect the group from me, or if he was attempting to offer some protection against another Daryl outburst. Daryl looked around at everyone, his eyes shotty, before nodding to me. I reached a hand up, and touched his arm, eliciting a heavy flinch from him, "…Just come back in one piece. Please. I know that me being here complicates things, and I know that right now your head is in the right place, and for that…I'm proud of you. Understand that. I want you to forget I'm here…and bring Merle back in one piece, too – but at least be careful…"

He stared at me, his eyes narrowed, as if he was offended by my words. I frowned a bit. I didn't feel like any of my words were offensive. I was telling the truth, from my side of things. I felt like a burden. Glenn could have gotten himself killed, trying to bring me back. Now, Daryl, who had obviously started moving on, was pained to see me. I was causing him emotional pain. For that, I was sorry. He gritted his teeth a bit, and he stepped back.

"Worry bout yourself…", he sneered, turning away from me. I was getting quite used to seeing the back of his head, at this point. There wasn't much use in grabbing him again, forcing him to talk to me. He would come around, and I would be here when he did. I nodded to myself, receiving a pitiful look from Dale, as he opted out of the scenario, and entered the RV. Lori's face had changed since the last time I had seen her. She no longer looked at me like a complete burden to the group. She now looked at me as part of a family. I was part of Daryl's family, and that was all I could ask for. I wanted to be part of this group. I wanted to be Daryl and Merle's family, because not only did they not have anyone else, but I was well and truly on my own, as well.

I nodded, absentmindedly again, and turned away from Lori's stare. For now, I could do nothing, but wait around. I had to wait for Daryl to return, or not to, either way…I had to wait.

Rick came over to me, his face failing miserably in hiding his disappointment with the rest of the group. He and Lori had just had a massive argument over his leaving, which made me wonder who was her husband, after all. I had only ever seen her with Shane, and her little boy looked to Shane like a father. I could only have assumed…

I sighed as he placed both hands on his hips and dipped his head to talk to me, "I'll bring him back in one piece. I promise you. They your family?"

I shook my head, chewing the skin off of the inside of my lip, as I stared at his scuffed shoes, "They are all I have…family or not."

"That's all we have to hold onto, in this world. You keep your head up. You hear me? I want you to do anything you have to do to keep busy…but keep your head up. Shane's stayin' back. If you need anything at all, you go to him. Let me worry about Daryl."

The way Rick carried himself was enough to convince me of anything. I trusted him, immediately. I could see the good oozing from him, as he waited for my confirmation. Daryl was in good hands… I looked up, scanning his eyes, before nodding my head. Rick let a relieved smile creep onto his lips, as he shifted from one foot to the other. Over his shoulder, I could see Daryl staring at us, as if he could tell what Rick was saying to me. He didn't look happy…

"I'm only worried…", I started, sniffling back the lump in my throat, "I'm only worried about what he will do to himself. If Merle…"

"Don't even think like that. He's still there. T-dog made sure of it by chaining that door. It's the best hope we got. If not…I can handle Daryl. You worry about yourself…", he said to me, before digging in his pocket. He pulled out three shiny bullets, picking up my hand, and dropping them against my palm, "Just in case that shiny new pistol needs to be useful. Make 'em count…", he finished.

I nodded, sniffling, and puffing my chest out. It was a defensive stand, and it caused Rick to smile, as he placed a hand on my shoulder briefly. He turned to talk to Dale, who had moved back to the front of the RV. There was talk about tools, as I turned and stalked toward my tent. There wasn't much hope of talking Daryl out of this, and I had nothing to do but wait. I might as well be alone. I needed to be away from the worry and anger on everyone's faces anyways.

We would be fine.

I reached behind me, and pulled my Python from the back of my jeans. The second my fingers touched the cold metal, my hands began to shake, and I brought it around to look at it. I flicked it open, staring at the empty chamber, before opening my other hand. The shiny bullets were laid in all sorts of directions as I rolled them down to the tips of my fingers, and thumbed all three of them into the tiny holes. I was safe…I had three rounds to protect this entire camp with, or at least that's how I saw it. I would try to keep them alive, if it killed me.

I reached my tent, and noticed a figure, sitting inside. The hair that stuck up over the top of the open door caused me to sigh.

"I came here to be alone…", I muttered, still holding the gun by my side. Jacqui sat up straighter, and shook her head, while unzipping the door for me to enter the tent. She didn't pay any mind to the gun, only that I had returned. I sighed again, and climbed through the door of the tent, dropping heavily onto the makeshift mattress.

"So, Daryl Dixon…", she started, opening a small Tupperware bowl with a 'pop'. From it, she pulled several medical supplies, and began tugging at my pant legs, pulling them up to my thighs, carefully. I watched, having forgotten the blood that was seeping consistently from my disgusting knees. She removed the bandages and stayed quiet, glancing up at me every now and again, waiting for my gossip.

"Farm hand…", I answered her, keeping it a bit vague. I wanted her to ask questions, even though I didn't know how to answer them. I wanted to talk to her, and have at least one person in the group that wanted my company…

"That…out there. That didn't look like an employer to her employee…", she said with a smile. Her smile made me think of my mother, and her tone was asking me about Daryl as if he was a school crush. I smirked a bit, as she smeared some sort of medication across the deep cuts.

"He was my daddy's farm hand.", I elaborated.

"Ooooh, girl!", she laughed, reaching forward to push at my arm. This had to be the juiciest gossip she had heard in a month. I couldn't help but continue, starting from the beginning, when we moved into the farmhouse, and met the Dixons. I opened up, much to my surprise, and I felt lighter for it. After she finished my legs up, we both laid back, giggling about everything from the size of the tent, to the color of my hair.

As the day began to wind down, Jacqui looked up at the roof of the tent and sighed, satisfied with how we spent the entire day. She looked over to me, and then back up at the roof, and I could feel that she wanted to say something.

"What?", I asked her.

"It's gettin' dark. I wonder what we're having for supper…", she said, which caused us both to giggle, absentmindedly.

As if summoned, we heard footsteps approaching, and we both sat up, looking out the open door to see Carol tiptoeing to us. She squatted next to the tent, and gave a soft smile, "We're gonna have a fish fry in a bit, if you wanna come eat. It'll hit the spot a lot better than cans…"

Jacqui and I both smiled, before looking at each other. I nodded to Jacqui, signaling that I would join the group, and Carol nodded in understanding. She stood slowly and crossed her arms, before walking back to the rest of the group. I sighed. Now, Jacqui knew everything. It felt good, to have someone know the story. Daryl was probably just as mysterious with them as he was to me, when I first met him. How we became what we were, well…it's complicated. I'll explain it to you, but not now. That's a story for a happier day.

I was the first to move from the tent, pulling my pant legs down, stuffing them into my boots. I reached back in, as Jacqui watched my movements, and grabbed my pistol, slipping it into the back of my jeans. She sighed unhappily, and stood, brushing herself off, before wrapping an arm around my shoulders, leading me across the 'yard' to the firepit.

I mostly ignored the light conversation that was made, within the group. I ate my fish, even though my stomach was in knots, thinking about Daryl's whereabouts. It was dark, and they were still in Atlanta. It was only a few minutes out…they should have been back much earlier. I was zoned out, as were Lori and Shane.

What if they were ambushed in Atlanta?

What if Walkers had taken down every one of them, and I was waiting for nothing, like Lori?

A hand reached across the arm of my lawnchair, running down my tiny arm. I jumped, before realizing Jacqui's touch, which caused a smile to creep to my lips. I began fearing what would happen if I got used to her taking care of me, like this. I didn't know how long I would be around, with Daryl's current issues he seemed to be having with me. However, I couldn't deny Jacqui's affections. She just seemed so worried, and caring, like a mother.

Sighing, I sat my plate aside as one of the blonde women stood from her spot, and turned toward the RV. By her excusing herself, I guessed supper was over. Great. I could sneak away. I could go back to my tent and sleep, and in the morning, Daryl would come stumbling back with Merle, bitching and groaning about missing the fish fry. That would be my heavenly wake up call.

"Are we seriously out of toilet paper?!", the girl called out a few minutes later, and we all raised our heads to look at her, just in time to see a Walker take off half her arm. I gasped, pulling Jacqui from her chair as I stood, and the girl screamed. It was then that we noticed the rest of the Walkers, at least a dozen of them.

"Lori! Get down…", I heard Shane yell out, as he pulled some of the others in behind him. He pulled his shotgun up and began taking them out, one by one, which sparked something in my mind. I had bullets. I had three bullets.

"Come on. Let's get to the RV! TO THE RV!", I yelled, holding Jacqui's hand close to my side as I worked my way toward the RV. Blood splattered us both, and Jacqui screamed. As the Walker fell to the ground beside her, we both looked to Jim with huge eyes, gasping for air. Holy shit, "Keep moving!"

I pulled up my pistol, taking out one Walker as my back pushed against Jacqui, whose back was against the RV. We were cornered. Shane, Lori, and her son weren't far in front of us. I raised the pistol again, taking out two more Walkers. I was done. I was out of bullets, and this wasn't in our hands, anymore.

A shotgun blast took us all off guard, as Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog returned, picking off Walkers one by one. I let out the shaky breath that I had been holding in, seeing Daryl in one piece. Jacqui's arm wrapped around my shoulders, resting on my chest. I reached up, taking it into mine for support, both for me and for her. I closed my eyes, refusing to witness any of the men be taken down. Daryl's voice shocked me out of the darkness. He stumbled further into camp, and my name slipped from his lips, before he shot yet another Walker, and began beating it's skull in. Sobs escaped his throat, and I couldn't help but reach out to him.

"Daryl!", I screamed out to him, but Jacqui held me tight against her, sobbing into my ear. I couldn't tell if she was protecting me, or herself, but I stayed put.

Rick ran to his wife and son, sobbing. The guilt he must have been feeling, at that point would have broken the strongest men, and it sure broke me down. I couldn't help but turn my head from him, looking out across the yard. I looked over the heads of the others, not seeing Daryl anymore. A second ago, he was calling my name. Now, he was completely silent. The white-hot feeling of terror ripped through my stomach as I attempted to stay calm. The Walkers moaning stopped, and the camp fell into silence, as everyone sobbed and mourned their dead.

"Shan!", I heard Daryl's broken voice scream out into the darkness. I leaned forward, trying to break free of Jacqui. I was finally forced to peel her hands from my chest, in order to stumble away from her. I grabbed the bar to the awning, keeping myself standing as I looked for Daryl. He was pacing over by a tree, his hand running through his hair. He was ready to implode. He wasn't crying anymore, as far as I could tell, but he was falling apart.

"Dar-", I started to call out again, as his eyes caught sight of me, and he threw his shotgun to the ground. I continued stumbling to him, before flinging arms around his neck. The action almost took us both down as I buried my face into his neck, sobbing, "Oh my god…don't ever do that again…"

I didn't expect his arms to wrap around me the way they did, as they seemed to hold onto me for dear life. I could barely breathe, as his fingertips pressed heavily into the bruises and sore muscles of my back. I didn't care. The sobs began to stop, as I began to feel safe. He sensed me calming myself, and he pulled me away from him, pushing my hair back away from my face. He looked me over, turning my head from one side to the other. He raised the sleeves on my shirt, checking for bites.

"You hurt? D'you get bit?", he asked, straight to the point. I shook my head, bringing my arms to cross in front of my body, awkwardly. He nodded, sighing in relief, "Good…good."

With that, he picked his shotgun up, and pushed past me. I didn't get a chance to ask him if he was all right, or how the trip went. I didn't get a chance to care…

"What about Merle?", I asked him, but he didn't turn around. He stopped, his shoulders rising and falling, before I heard him whisper, 'Gone.' With that, he walked away from me, off to help with the bodies that seemed to be piling up all over camp. I sighed, catching Jacqui's eyes as T-dog's arms engulfed her.

So much for safe…

**Final Note: The ideas for the CDC have been buzzing in my head for days. I think that the next chapter will deal more with that, and not so much what happens at camp the next day. If you don't like the idea of skipping anything, please review, and say so. :) I plan to have the next chapter up tonight, or tomorrow sometime, since it's already written in my mind. Thanks for you support!**


	8. Chapter 8: The Art of Moving On

**Note: The CDC! ** **We're getting into the one episode of the show that I'm more excited to write for than anything, and I really hope I can do it justice for you guys. Just follow along, and hopefully the path the story takes, in my mind, will be what you hoped!**

**R&R and things get done!**

Chapter 8: TS-19 Part 1

The smell of burning flesh radiated off of Daryl's shirt, as his old truck bounced and rocked along the highway. I wanted to ask him to take it off, but I knew that the smell would just stick around, as it was engrained into his skin, at this point. Rick had stuck us together, as a family. However, the ride seemed like more of a funeral precession, than a family outing. Daryl didn't say a word, as we followed the others. He just chewed on his thumb, and leaned his body into the door- probably to escape the smell.

The morning hadn't gone much better than the night before. We had been forced to burn the bodies of people we had never seen before. Yes, they were people at some point. The loved ones had been executed, including the young girl I now knew as Amy. Andrea's screams would haunt a few of my dreams for the next few weeks, I'll admit. After viewing the options, people began to question the safety of camp. They were on edge. They were terrified and devastated by the events that unfolded. Some blamed Rick. Others blamed the location, and moved on. It didn't matter the reasons. Good people died, and it was something you didn't just bounce back from. I glanced over at Daryl, watching him in his trance, as he stared ahead at the road.

"Are you…", I started, before he huffed.

"I'm fine."

And silence engulfed us, again.

Dale's RV didn't make it long, before we noticed smoke erupting, and everyone pulled over at the same time. I opened my door, before Daryl ever stopped, and hopped, out on the run, to check on Jacqui. Somewhere during the mess of Walkers, one of the men, Jim had been bitten. Holding onto whatever hope he could salvage, Rick gathered us all up, and we decided to go and find the CDC, in search of a cure. He had a point. If the CDC were really working on a cure, they would have been heavily guarded. They would have been one of the last pieces of government to go down, and they were our best shot. So, we left, with Jim in transition, and our tanks half empty. This run would either be a suicide mission, or our saving grace.

I tapped on the door of the RV as the men gathered around the front of it. Jacqui pushed the door open, on her way out. She had been crying, and her hands were still damp and withered from being in a bowl of water since we had started out. I could tell she wanted to believe, so bad, that Jim would be okay, and I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. So, I offered my hand, helping her down the steps, as she hurried out and around to Rick.

"Jim is real bad. I don't think he can take much more…", she said to Rick with panic in her voice. I looked down at my feet, before glancing up at Daryl. He was staring at me intently, as if he was afraid I would disappear. The gesture was comforting, even if he tried to make his stare more of a glare. I nodded to him, as Shane began speaking.

"Imma go up to this station up here…see what I can find..", he explained to Rick, who nodded, and gave instructions. With everyone in understanding, Rick removed his hat, and entered the RV. The action was solemn, as if he was going in to say goodbye to Jim. I sniffled a bit, doing what the rest of the group was doing…I stayed silent, pacing around. I needed air, and I had plenty of it, out here, but it still seemed thick. All of the angst and the sadness; it was exhausting to say the least.

I took another small look at Daryl, who was still in the same position, and I walked back to the truck. The Franken-Harley peeked over the top of the tailgate, I noticed. Daryl was holding onto it for dear life. It was perched in the bed of that old truck, as shiny and new as the day my dad had it painted. I smirked a bit as I approached, climbing up onto the bumper and into the bed. I ran my hand over the shiny metal of the handlebars, down to the leather of the seat, and the cheap paint job that covered the rear fender. It was definitely Daryl. As much shit as I had given him over this bike, it had turned out better than expected, and I was happy for him. I was happy that he was able to hold onto a shred of humanity.

I backed away from the bike, taking a seat on the side of the truck. I was far enough away from the group that I could let myself sink into a mode. Sink, I did. My hands ran up the sides of my face, from my chin, and rested over my eyes. The dark nothingness felt amazing, even if it was brief. I drifted slowly, as the wind blew along the sweaty back of my neck. No dreams came, but I fell into a sleeping state rather easily.

I don't know how long I snoozed, but I felt a poke in the back, causing me to sit up straight and turn to the annoyance. That annoyance…was the knock of an arrow.

"Yeah…", I answered.

"Jim's decided to um…to stay. The group's all over there…", Daryl explained. I raised an eyebrow at the fact that he wanted to be a part of the goodbyes. It wasn't Daryl's style to say goodbye. However, I didn't complain, but stood from my seat and began climbing down. I didn't know Jim, like the others, but I still felt pity. No human being deserved to go out this way…

Daryl offered a hand, which I took, gladly, and jumped down from the bumper. The entire group was gathered around a tree, where I noticed Jim's head peeking out above someone's shoulder. He looked as if he was a few inches from death, but I didn't agree with leaving him here. His choice or not, he would wake up a Walker, and would soon walk off, threatening other possible survivors. I felt the need, for a split second, to put a bullet in his brain, without question. The rational side of me decided that it would hurt the group's morale, and I relaxed a bit. As the rest of the group said goodbye, I stood behind Daryl, who only offered Jim a solemn nod, before turning. I glanced at his face, reading his eyes, and decided not to speak on the matter. Instead, I placed a hand on the back of his arm, and led him back to the truck.

TWD TWD TWD TWD TWD TWD TWD

We all stopped at the entrance to Atlanta, and my stomach churned. Just the 'welcome' sign was enough to bring back awful memories of torture and rape…and…well, you name it. I breathed in deeply, which caused Daryl to look over at me. I wouldn't really call his expression 'concerned', but he noticed my worry, either way, and his hands began twisting along the steering wheel.

After giving everyone time to catch up, Dale continued into the city, finishing our voyage to the CDC. I closed my eyes, for much of the journey, as seeing the shabby brick buildings and dead bodies in the streets began making me sick to my stomach. What seemed like six hours passed, before we slowed to a stop about a block from a fancy made building. The exterior was built like a stadium, of some sort, tucked away in the middle of this dead city. If there was anyone left, they were held up inside, and they were the last hope for us…or at least Rick thought so.

"You got any bullets for that pea shooter?", Daryl asked out of nowhere, and I looked around us, through the windows. There were dead bodies everywhere. I didn't see Walkers…yet. I shook my head, and he let out a long sigh, unbuttoning his hunting knife from his leg and handed it to me, "Take this…I expect it back when we get inside…"

I nodded, running my thumb along the flattened edge of the blade. It was so sharp, I wondered if it could cut a hair. Once we were inside, I fully planned to try. Smirking, I gripped the hilt of it tightly, and opened my door. The smell was immediately enough to knock you down, as we formed a tight group and began making our way toward the garage doors of the building. To me, it was already looking a bit grim, as the dead bodies kept piling up, the closer we got.

I followed closely behind Daryl, reaching forward to grab the back of his shirt for comfort, while I felt Jacqui's tiny hand gripping my own. As we stepped over the last of the bodies, the smell became worse. The roof trapped the heat, and the smell was just the cherry on top. We couldn't stay here. Even Daryl had to cover his face with his arm, as I did the same, gagging a bit.

Rick walked up to the door, as the rest of us looked all around, watching our backs for Walkers. The ones from the night before came out of nowhere. In the city, they could do the same, even faster. I held the knife in front of me, keeping Daryl close at my side as we watched. I heard the men trying to pry at the door, before T-dog said what everyone was thinking.

"There's no one here…", he muttered.

"Then why are these shutters down?", Rick asked, trying to hold onto any tiny amount of hope he could. He was slowly deflating; the longer we were forced to stand out here.

"Walkers!", Daryl called out, shooting one in the face, as he pushed me back toward the rest of the group. I stubbornly held the knife up, waiting for the Walkers to get closer to us, where I could be of some use, "You led us into a GRAVE YARD!"

I didn't have time to grab him, as he flew at Rick. All his anger toward the man that possibly killed his brother, and now had him in a life or death situation came to a head at once, and Shane stepped in, grabbing Daryl around the waist. He roughly pushed him toward me, "You shut up. You hear me?! SHUT UP! Control him…or I will…"

"What the hell's that sposed to mean?!", Daryl called from over my shoulder as I grabbed him around the midsection and pushed, pushing him as far away from Rick as I could at that moment.

"Calm the fuck down!", I half yelled at him.

"Yon't tell me to calm down, princess! Or…" he retorted, raising his shotgun as if he would bring it down on my face. I braced myself, knowing that it wasn't in Daryl's nature to do such a thing, but if he did do it…

"Or what?!", I continued, before pushing him away from me. He wasn't going to do anything. He couldn't if he tried.

As the whole group began to break down, more Walkers appeared around us. We had to keep our priorities straight, here. Watching the Walkers go down, the world began to move in slow motion, as I heard Rick melting down behind us. I tried to ignore the chaos, as Shane began ushering us to the cars, no hope in his voice at all. Then… Rick began screaming.

"YOU'RE KILLING US!", he screamed for mercy, as Shane grabbed him and began carrying him away from the door, away from our only hope. I couldn't watch, turning to Daryl's outstretched arm, my knife in a defensive stance.

What happened next stopped everyone in their tracks. Even Daryl turned, and I could almost see the safety arrive on his face as the doors to the CDC began opening. We all stood there, staring into the light for a few seconds, before Rick and Shane led us into the building, still heavily armed and looking for Walkers.

"Watch for Walkers…", Rick said, and I kept a tight grip on the knife, now following closer to Rick. I didn't know who was better off, but Rick was a better talker. If we were to come in contact with other living humans, we would need a negotiator. That person was most definitely not Daryl.

We all looked around, almost terrified of the silence and clean smell the building gave off. It was the first sign of true safety we had seen in weeks; all of us. It honestly felt false, as I bent my knees slightly, holding the knife in front of myself. I realized I was positioned under Rick's arm, as if I was guarding he and myself. He didn't complain, however, as we continued on.

"Hey hey hey…", Shane whispered, and all guns pointed to the direction his eyes were glaring. In the corner stood a man, with a high-powered military rifle. He looked weary of all of us, and Rick lowered his gun a bit.

"What do you want?", the man asked, not letting his scope leave his face. Rick completely lowered his gun, and his muscles tensed up against my wrist. In reaction, I lowered my knife, still glaring at the man. After what I had been through, what this group had been through, we were not falling to the living.

"A chance…", Rick answered him, his breathing labored. He was afraid, but he was our leader. Yes…he was our leader, standing up for us all, prepared to take a bullet for each and every one of us. In my eyes, that made him better than Shane on every single plane, and I would back him up, if it killed me.

"That's a hell of a lot to ask these days…"

"You gonna give it to us, or not? We're runnin' out of time.", I opened up, causing Rick to turn to me briefly. It slipped, okay? It slipped. The man stared ahead, thinking about his options, before lowering his gun and pointing to the door.

"A blood test. That's the price of admission. You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once those doors close, they don't open back up…"

He didn't have to say anything else. Daryl, Glenn, and T-dog turned around, running out the doors again. They were risking a hell of a lot to get a few bags, but it was too late to grab any arms…

As Rick and our savior spoke to each other, introducing themselves, I stood by the window, watching the 'gophers' do their run. The air was tense, as Daryl took out a Walker, and kept running. I didn't know my fingers could grip onto anything, like they did the metal framing of the window. It was too much to handle, watching Daryl run away, yet again, for something pointless.

I could hear Glenn yelling for the others to hurry, and to follow him as they began making their way back.

"C'mon…c'mon guys…", I whispered to myself as the others began making their way over to the elevator. I wasn't moving my feet from that spot until Daryl's body was through the doors, bags and all. As he ran through, I reached out, grabbing the bag from his shoulder. He shrugged it off, dropping it onto my outstretched arm, before pushing me into the elevator with everyone else. His touch was rough, not wanting my assistance, "Are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine…", he murmured, actually making eye contact. I couldn't read his expression, but I was sure that inside, something clicked. Something clicked, and he realized...

I cared, and I was there to stay.

_**To Be Continued...**_

**Note: More development! I broke this chapter into two bits, because it felt more comfortable broken up, like the last huge chapter. So, we are in the CDC now, and big things are coming for Daryl/Shan. I'm excited to write them, but I will warn...I don't write detailed sex scenes and I am so sorry for those of you who are here for them. It's not in my style, but I promise I will screw with your feels enough. I...promise...**

**Also, I have to ask. Would you guys like to see some of this from Daryl's POV? I feel like the story flowed better with it, but it's hard to write for sometimes. So, I'm asking your opinion. Post a review with your answer!**

**Let's carry on to part deux, shall we? xoxoxo**


	9. Chapter 9: TS-19 - Part 1

**Note: Alright, so in my insane mind, my chapters got all mixed up. I'm planning another two chapters for the CDC. The three chapters will be labeled - TS-19 Part 1,2, and 3. This chapter is part 1, and it's the beginning of something beautiful. I think you'll all like it. I'm sorry at how slow the Daryl/Shan thing is moving, but we're all here for story, right? If it was all fluff and sex, it would get boring. **

**Enjoy! Review please!**

Chapter 9: TS-19 Part 1

The elevator ride was quiet, as everyone wondered what this place was. We knew what went on inside. We knew that there was a reason for the government protecting everything about it, but what was inside…was a mystery. Daryl shifted a bit, his crossbow scraping against my back. I craned my neck to watch his facial expression. I wasn't sure if he was just nervous, or if he had something to say to someone.

"Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?", he asked, looking down at Jenner's gun, as did the rest of the group. Jenner laughed, and looked down at it, as well.

"There were plenty lying around in the streets. A month alone gave me plenty of time to become familiarized…know what I mean?", he explained to Daryl, just as the elevator doors opened to a very white hallway. Daryl gave a slow shrug of the shoulders, as he raised his eyebrows, impressed and not able to form a retort. I smiled a bit, as the group began leaving the confinement of the elevator.

I shuddered at the feeling the sterile hallway gave off, like a hospital. I wondered if this doctor knew anything about concussions. I hadn't said a word, but my head was swimming, ever time I moved. I held onto hope that it would simply fix itself. As Jenner exited the elevator, I felt Daryl's hand on my back, pushing me forward, out of the tiny space. I didn't blame him. Cramming thirteen people in a normal sized elevator was both dumb, and uncomfortable. The hallway was cold, and it was obvious that we had gone deep underground. I didn't know if I felt comfortable with that, or not, after my time in Atlanta…

Carol was the first to speak of it, and Jenner quickly shot down her worries, commenting on the spacious living conditions he had enjoyed for the past month as we entered a larger room. I was feeling decidedly dizzy; by the time we exited the cramped hallway. Being underground, with no windows…it brought back terrible memories, but most of all, the stress it caused magnified my concussion, immensely.

The large room lit up, the lights illuminating the computers and various stations of the room. My head was swimming a bit too much to be impressed by the technology. I brought my hands up to my temples and took deep breaths as I began to feel sweat droplets forming along my forehead. If I didn't get some air, and somewhere to lie down, I would faint.

"Hey…You alright?", I heard Glenn ask. His voice sounded like it was coming from inside a chamber somewhere, and his face was blurry. He waved his hand in front of my eyes, and snapped his fingers a few times, before I lost sight of him completely.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl had forced himself into the elevator with the rest. It was cramped. It was tense, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was safe. He sighed, pressing his hand against Shan's back as they exited. Feeling those muscles under his fingers again, being able to reach out and touch something familiar was more overwhelming than anything Daryl had ever experienced. He hadn't experienced loss, like a lot of people. He always cut his losses, and moved on, like he did with his mom. He had watched that damn house burn…like he was watching a bonfire on a beach. It wasn't that he didn't love the old bitch. He just wanted something better for her than she had. Her getting out was peaceful, even if her death was excruciating. He cleared his throat, following close enough behind Shan that his crossbow made a dent in her shirt.

It was this damn hallway. It was tiny, and even though he tried to stay back, he didn't want to leave her side. He had seen the bruises, felt her tense muscles. Her face looked like mince meat, and it was probably a good thing he didn't know where to find the sons of bitches that caused it. Sure, there were times where he had wanted to clock her, right in the mouth, but never acted on it, because you don't do that shit. His father was a piece of shit. He was the exception…

Carol shook him from his trance, and he swung his crossbow around to his back, taking the pressure off of Shan. She didn't seem to notice though, and the longer he stared at her, he wondered how she was feeling. Her steps were beginning to drag, and the back of her neck was wet with sweat, gluing her hair to it. Daryl narrowed his eyes and pressed a little closer to her body, stealthily holding his hands out under her elbows, just in case she fell out.

The large room lit up, and Daryl looked around, in wonder. He had never seen so many computers in one place. Hell, he had never seen more than a cellphone in one place, as far as technology went. It wasn't exactly something that his father cared to give his kids. Then again, it wasn't as if his father had cared to give the boys anything.

"Hey…You alright?", he heard Glenn ask, and he turned his head to see Shan's eyes rolling back in her head. He knew she didn't look good. He knew it! He shouldn't have moved from her. Reacting to what he knew would happen, he shoved Lori out of his way, just in time for Shan's neck to fall against his outstretched hand. That fall could have killed her. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, laying her gently onto her back. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, looking up to the rest of the group.

"You guys ain't gonna do nothin'?", he asked, turning his attention to Dr. Jenner. The man stared at Shan, as if she was bitten, "She ain't a Walker!"

Jenner sighed, placing a hand on his hip, before signaling to Daryl and Glenn, "Take her to the cafeteria down the hall. I'll do her blood test while she's out. There are anti-inflammatories in the cabinet under the sink, and I'll need you to test her blood pressure and heart rate. I'll be in, in a second…"

Daryl narrowed his eyes as Jenner spouted off orders, not understanding a thing he was asking them to do, "What?"

"We can do that…", Glenn spoke up, catching Daryl's gaze. Daryl huffed, and shared a nod with him, before slipping his arms under Shan. Glenn took off through the door, off to find the cafeteria. Daryl followed him, lugging her as best as he could. She didn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds, but her dead weight made her difficult to carry. Her arms didn't reach up to his neck, which caused him to lean his head down to her mouth, listening for her breath. He didn't hear anything.

"Glenn!", Daryl yelled out, running into the cafeteria. He stumbled into the door, almost dropping Shan to the floor, in a moment of panic. His breathing was quick and shaky, and he could barely continue walking with jelly legs. Glenn caught a sight of them from the corner of his eye, and ran to assist Daryl, seeing his panic.

"Up here! On the table!", Glenn said, grabbing her feet to assist him. Daryl didn't look good, himself. He was tired, and was now terrified, no matter how much he tried to hide it on his face. Who was he kidding? He wasn't hiding it at all. As her back hit the table surface, he brought his hands up to his head, running them through his hair. He watched as Glenn leaned down and listened for Shan's breathing, also watching her chest. It was shallow, but it was there, "She's alive. We need to prop her head up and see what's causing the blackout…"

"Her head, man…", Daryl croaked out, moving Shan's head to the side with one hand. The white surface of the table was sponged with wet blood from her hair, and Glenn groaned, judging Daryl's movements.

"Man…whoever those guys were…"

"What the hell you mean, guys?", Daryl snapped, narrowing his eyes at Glenn, "You got somethin' to tell me?"

"That's not my story to tell…and I don't know…"

"What the hell DO YOU MEAN?!", Daryl repeated, a little louder, as he leaned on the table and drew himself closer to Glenn's face. Glenn swallowed, lowering his eyes to the table. He held up a finger, stepping away to go through the cabinets. He found the supplies Jenner had mentioned, gathering them in his arms. As he brought them over, his eyes scanned over Daryl. Daryl didn't stop his glare. He wanted to know what the hell happened to her. She didn't get this way from fighting Walkers. She was attacked by humans, wherever the group had found her. The thought of anyone laying a finger on her made his skin crawl.

"Look…All I know is what Jacqui and Carol found on her body. She's been scratched…with fingernails. Her back, and…and her thighs were covered in these weird looking bruises.", Glenn started. He waited for Daryl's reaction, seeing that Daryl was definitely festering. He cleared his throat, ready to explain what he meant to Daryl, but he received a huff. It was that little ironic laugh the never ended well for anyone, "…That's all we know. Her mouth and head don't look so good either…"

"Where'd you find her…", Daryl interrupted, an angry smirk growing on his lips.

"Daryl…"

"WHERE?!", Daryl screamed, echoing through the large cafeteria. He glared to Glenn, glad to see him flinch. Instead of answering right away, Glenn shook his head, "…Was it in Atlanta? Where Merle was?"

"Maybe we should talk to Rick and Shane about this."

"Just answer the damn question…", Daryl whispered, looking down at the bruises and cuts that covered Shan's face.

"I-I stumbled on her, actually. She was covered in blood, and just appeared out of a herd of Walkers…I thought she was dead. I was on my way back to them, yeah.."

Daryl's hands came up to run through his hair again. He should have gone back for her. He should have run to her house, taken out the bastards…and left with her. This was his fault. Glenn stared at him long enough that he felt his eyes burning into his forehead and he lifted his eyes to look at him, again.

"Let's get Jenner and see what he can do, alright?", Glenn asked, checking Shan's breathing again. Satisfied, he brushed past Daryl, off to fetch Jenner. Daryl didn't move. He stood above Shan's head, staring at her blackened eyes. He thought back to what she used to look like. He wished there was a way for him to track down the fuckers who did this to her. He didn't want her around; not really. He wanted her safe. He wanted her to stay here, if they were to move forward. He wanted a lot of things he couldn't have.

He sat down in one of the cheap plastic chairs, and watched her face, intently, while chewing the skin from around his thumb.

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"I'm no medical doctor, but I've never seen a head injury that bad, outside of a hospital. If times were different, I would say she should be under medical supervision. Things being the way they are, however, I recommend that she's under the supervision of someone…anyone that can watch her actions. Her blood looks normal, but I'd like to run tests on all of your blood, if that is okay…", Jenner explained. Daryl's body didn't relax, even as Rick placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off violently, causing Rick to raise both hands to the sides of his head in surrender. Daryl was done with the group, for now. He wanted to be alone, and as if they read his mind, Jenner grabbed his tray of blood samples, and signaled for the rest of the group to follow him out of the room, "Come on. I'll show you guys where you can sleep."

Rick leaned down, and sat Daryl's knife on the table by Shan's head. She had dropped it when she fell, and Rick had thought to pick it up. Daryl felt as if he owed him a 'thank you', or some form of appreciation. Right now, it just wasn't in his bones to say anything. So, he let Rick leave the room.

He reached up, grabbing the knife, and slid it back into its holster, watching Shan's face the entire time. After being gone so long, and after everything she had gone through to find him; this time he would be the first thing she saw when she woke up. He almost kicked himself for the thought. How much of a pussy was he becoming? Shaking his head, he watched her eyes as they began fluttering. No sooner had they started fluttering, was she raising her head from the table.

"Hey, now…Stay down..I'm here…", he mumbled to her, standing to grab her shoulders. His voice seemed to be reassurance, as she laid back and raised a hand to her head. She was awake.

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"What happened?", I asked as some of the world began to focus around me. I knew Daryl was in the room, I just didn't know where, right now. I reached around, trying to find his hands, and found nothing. I bet I looked real smart, flailing like that.

"Your clumsy ass took a spill. What do ya think?", he replied to me in a tired voice. I smirked, and craned my neck a bit to look above me. He wasn't smiling, and his eyes held no sign of amusement. He looked scared, and tired – two things I wasn't used to seeing on Daryl Dixon's face. So, I slowly rolled to the edge of the table and sat up. He shuffled, reaching both hands out to me, "You tryin' to kill yourself? That doctor guy said we had to watch you…"

"Then watch me! But, I ain't layin' on this table, rottin' away. Just help me get a glass of water, and I'll be out of your hair.", I said sliding my ass off the table and onto my feet. My legs felt like jello, again, and I stumbled against his chest.

"Nobody's chasin' you away…", he murmured, holding me up by my shoulders. I couldn't help but scan his eyes. His attitude had changed, somewhere in all the chaos, but was it a pity party? I didn't need the pity. I didn't need his worry, only to be pushed away when everything returned back to normal. What I needed, was the Daryl I knew and loved.

"Well, you ain't exactly been hospitable to me, sweetheart…", I said softly, pushing him off of me. I stumbled to the doorframe, and felt the air in the room grow thick with Daryl's annoyance and anger. Good. I wasn't filling myself with false hope anymore. I carefully stumbled into the hallway, straight into the arms of Glenn, who seemed terrified. He looked me over, and sighed, as if he was expecting me to be a Walker, with Daryl's guts hanging from my teeth, "I need water…"

"Y-yeah. Okay. Water, I can do…", he stammered, looking in the door at Daryl. The two exchanged glares, and Glenn guided me to the game room. I smirked at the expansive room. Inside were rows of bookshelves, all along the walls. A few pinball machines, and other games were unplugged, and shoved to the side, but added to the nice feeling of the room, "Jenner said that two people could stay in here. I pretty much spoke up for it to belong to you and Daryl, but if you would rather be alone, I'll talk to Daryl, and…"

"Glenn. Thanks…", I stopped him, stumbling to one of the couches. As I sat down, I sighed in relief, which elicited a satisfied smile from Glenn, "What?"

"Nothing. It's just surreal, you know? Being here, away from the Walkers. There's no smell, or bodies. It's just us. Jenner even has food! He has food, and wine. He's offered us dinner."

"Really? Is it food? I mean, like real food?", I asked, pulling my hand up to my temple. The pain was back, but wasn't as insane as before.

"Yes. And…", Glenn sunk to one knee, a smile creeping to his lips as he did, "…Miss…whatever your last name is, will you accompany me to dinner and wine?"

**Note: Before you ask...No. I'm not setting Shan up with Glenn. There's not a romantic relationship to be had, there. He's a best friend figure. I love Glenn, in the show, and I think he's the perfect savior/best friend for Shan. His gesture here, was to make her smile. :) Hope you enjoyed what I have so far!**


	10. Chapter 10: TS-19 -Part 2

**Note: So, I'm so excited for this chapter. I didn't expect to love it as much as I did. It's the longest of the story, so far, and I'm super proud of it. I figure you will be too! Super feels for Shan/Daryl!**

Chapter 10: TS-19 – Part 2

I refrained from drinking much, sitting in a corner with my plate of food. Glenn, however, pushed back glass after glass of wine, and was beginning to giggle like a little girl. I pushed the spaghetti around my plate as the rest of the room erupted in laughter. They were feeling good, and it was a relief. Some of them, I had never seen smile before. I emptied the rest of the bag onto my plate, and tossed it to the side. Sure, we were eating rations, and drinking cheap wine, but it was the best food any of us had eaten in over a month.

I finished off my food, and sat the plate to the side, which was quickly whisked away by Jacqui. She had a glass of wine in her hand, and a smile on her face that I had to return to her. I was glad to see her happy, and at peace. I was glad to see us all happy and at peace. Even Daryl seemed to be happy. He was holding a bottle of whiskey; by its neck, taking long drags every few minutes. He was sitting in a corner, alone, and seemed troubled, but relaxed, all at the same time. After watching him, I noticed laughter erupting from the table in front of me, as Lori allowed Carl to drink wine. His reaction was so innocent and sweet; it caused the entire room to smile, including Daryl.

His eyes traveled from the table, to me, and his smile vanished. All that remained was his stare, as our eyes met, which also broke off as he looked back down at the bottle of whiskey, bringing it to his lips for a long drink. He slipped off of the table he had perched himself on, and stalked over to the table, grabbing an empty glass.

"Stick to soda pop, kiddo…", Shane said quietly, not amused by the scenario. Glenn's elbow bumped against mine, and I reached my arm around behind him, holding him to me. His head soon found my shoulder as he giggled. He was definitely drunk as a skunk.

"Not you, Glenn…", Daryl spoke up, pouring some whiskey into the glass in his hand. A smile spread across his lips as he stood up straight, "I wanna see how red your face can get!"

Glenn broke out in another giggle, hiding his face in my shoulder. I gave Daryl a warm smile, as he brought the glass of whiskey to me, holding it out. I took it, making sure that the tips of our fingers touched, as a way to say 'thank you'. I received a flinch, and a nod, in return, as he stepped away. Glenn's hand came up, reaching for my glass. I let out a snigger, slapping it out of the way, before taking down the entire glass in one drink. The whiskey was warm as it went down, and I immediately felt lighter, more relaxed. I smiled, keeping ahold of Glenn's hand against my leg, to keep him from grabbing any more alcohol. He was cut off.

"I don't think we've properly thanked our host. If it weren't for him…none of us would be alive. To Dr. Jenner…", Rick spoke up, and I raised Glenn's hand with my own, in a makeshift toast.

"To Dr. Jenner…", I said softly.

"Booyah!", Daryl chimed in, causing me to laugh, sitting Glenn's hand back on my lap. I was glad to see his spirits more lifted than before. He was the last one to do so, but he was trying to see this place as home, at least for a good while. Shane pretty much ruined everyone's night, as his drunken state brought up all of his emotions. I didn't know his and Lori's story, the way I would like to have, but I could sense his reluctance to let it go.

He asked about why we were alone, here. He wanted to know why we came all this way, to find only Jenner. Of course Jenner explained what had happened. The other scientists had run for their families, and friends. The ones that stayed around, as Jenner did, had committed suicide, when they realized it was too late to venture outside. The hope was lost. Jenner had no hope. He had no news, and there was nothing left in the world, except chaos and death. I could read it all over his face, as he finished. The room was silent, except Glenn groaning a bit against my shoulder. I turned my face to him, pulling him up, and he glared at Shane.

"You…are such…a buzz kill…", Glenn stuttered out, as he tried to stand up. I stood with him, my own legs not wanting to hold me up, and extended a hand. It was quickly slapped away by Glenn. He grabbed a piece of bread, before stumbling to the wall to stand.

"If you want to go and clean up…I told the others…there are showers in the gym. Feel free to use them, just go easy on the hot water…", Jenner spoke up, seeing Glenn's current state. Who knew how long he would last before the wine buzz knocked him out. Glenn's eyes lit up, and he was suddenly pretty sober, as he looked at me, ecstatic.

"Hot water?!", he mused, causing the group to erupt in stressed laughter. The whole group was a little darker, and a little less relaxed, because of Shane. I smiled back at Glenn, picking his hand up off the wall.

"That's what he said! How about we go check it out?", I coaxed him, pulling him from the wall, in the direction of the door. I was relieved that he could walk just fine. Every now and then we would stumble together, falling against a chair or table, but overall, we were pretty stable. I shuffled my feet out the door, dragging Glenn with me. Finding the gym was pretty easy, as it sat just to the side of the game room. I shoved him in, closing the door behind us, "Can you undress yourself?"

"I'm drunk…not handicapped…", he said with his eyes closed. I raised an eyebrow and stayed quiet, before grabbing the bottom of his shirt. I swiftly tugged it over his head, and he groaned, slapping my hands away, "I can do-oo it!"

I grabbed his belt and gave it a flick, before ripping it from his pants with a tug, "There…Now, just get in the shower. Don't forget to take off your pants and socks, okay?"

"You too, sir…", he mumbled. I stifled a giggle and turned to find my own shower.

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Daryl looked down at the whiskey bottle, as the room fell into an awkward silence. Leave it to Shane to kill the entire mood of the group. He seemed to be good at that, through his spats with Lori. What happened between Lori, Rick, and Shane was none of Daryl's concern, but as with most problems in the group, he was stuck knowing the details. He took another drink, and stood from his spot on the counter.

"Think I'm gonna go take a shower…clean up 'fore I go to bed. Y'all have fun…", he explained to them, mostly looking to Rick. Rick nodded, understanding that Daryl wanted to be alone. Raising the bottle to let Jenner know he was taking it, he turned and walked out of the room.

Finding the Gym was easy. Entering it, while hearing the showers running, was harder. Daryl was nervous to walk into a room where people could be naked. He wasn't shy, when it came to nudity, but the others might be. He pushed the door open, immediately hearing Glenn singing in the shower, drunk. He smirked a bit, finding Glenn to be much more tolerable with alcohol in his system. The white towels that sat on the rack, beside the showers, were not inviting, at all. The entire group was filthy, and covered in sheets of blood. White towels seemed a little vulgar…

He grabbed three towels from the rack, draping them over his arm as he made his way toward the sound of Glenn's hoarse singing. He almost called out to him, but decided to leave him be, instead. As he passed his stall, he draped a towel over the door. Glenn probably wouldn't find it, but in case he went looking for it, it was there. He frowned a bit, when his hand left the crisp towel. It left a grimy, rust colored smear. Oh well. It was nothing new, blood…

A broken sob, followed by a gasp invaded his silence, and he turned to the noise, recognizing that little bit of voice anywhere. Even when she cried, Shan's voice was enough to sing him to sleep. He was only realizing it now, but at least he was realizing that she meant something to him…more than he preferred, actually. He creeped to the door, thinking of whether or not he should knock. If she were really upset, she would probably push him away. Fighting with himself, for a few seconds, he closed his eyes in annoyance. He didn't want this. This wasn't the time for their problems.

Who was he kidding? This was probably the only time they would ever have, for their problems…

Sighing, he unbuckled his belt, toeing his shoes off as he continued listening to the chorus of sighs from beyond the door. Each of them caused him to cringe. She was hurting, so bad, and he was helpless, with his hands tied. After he had managed to discard his clothing, he draped the two towels over the top of the door, and carefully pulled it open. Beyond the clear shower curtain, he could see Shan's silhouette, leaning against the wall. She was closed within herself, crying into the corner. He looked down at his feet, having a single second thought. What if she thought he was a creep?

'A creep?', he thought to himself, 'You took her virginity, you big pussy…'

With that moment of clarity, he sighed, and took a shaky step toward the curtain. Pulling the curtain back seemed like it took more strength than he knew he had. He grabbed it, cringing at how loudly the rings slid across the metal bar. He didn't want her to hear him, and know he was around, yet. Then again, he didn't want to scare her to death, either. Once safely inside the curtain, he came to the decision of his next action.

Maybe he should just stand, and wait for her to find him. No…that would terrify her.

Maybe he should say something. No…that would scare her, too.

Honestly, there was no easy way for it to go down. So, he reluctantly reached a hand out, and ran his rough fingers along one of the many healing scrapes of her back. She stiffened, and her crying stopped, as she stood still, still staring at the corner. Daryl had never noticed her back, before. Then again, he had never seen this much of her in the daylight, before. Sprawled across her back, and just as tattered and scraped up as she was, was an expansive tattoo. The tattoo depicted a serene set of angel wings, with tattered edges. The angel wings were intricate, but were almost ruined by her wounds, which added more beauty to the pale skin. It was a small issue, but it ripped holes in his gut.

He traced the outside of the wings, narrowing his eyes at the way her body flinched against him. He knew what the wings represented to her, as they matched the ones on his vest identically. He didn't mind, but he regretted not being there for her, before now.

Her muscles tightened, and relaxed, all in one swift motion. This was what she had been begging for, with her eyes. She had only been asking for his attention, and affection. She had asked for him to treat her the way he never could, and still didn't know if he could.

Sure he could!

He had been selfish, and ornery, and had completely neglected the fact that she wasn't lost. She wasn't gone. She was an arms length away, and she was all he had. He had taken advantage of the fact that she had survived, and though she was broken to bits, she was with him. He swallowed hard, and stepped into the stream of scorching hot water, with a gasp. The water felt amazing, and even though he had only taken a handful of hot showers in his lifetime, he enjoyed it immensely. The grime and blood began pooling at his feet, and he turned back to Shan, letting the water rain down on the side of his face as he pulled her to him.

She resisted, but only just, as she crossed her arms over her chest, and closed her eyes. His hands ran up the length of her sides, up to her hair, where he gave a soft tug on the rubber band. As the hair unraveled from it's braid, the rusty color of blood began to run down her back, all the way to her feet. He really wanted to know who had harmed her. He really wanted to go to them, and put an arrow through their eye socket, but it wasn't the time to ask about such things.

His fingers moved through her tangled hair, slowly, attempting to rinse away the sadness, and the reminder of her time away from him. He was here, now. As long as he was still breathing, nothing would harm her, ever again…

"Turn around…", he whispered, leaning close to her ear. She did as she was told, turning to face him, with her eyes cast to the ground. Her face wasn't as swollen, and some of her features were starting to pop out, again, much to Daryl's happiness. Soon, all the reminders of his failure would be gone from her face. He just wished that he could remove them from her psyche. Her looks of sadness would haunt him for the rest of his life, otherwise.

He reached a hand up to her chest, wiping a bit of dried on blood from her collarbone, and watched as it ran into the rest of the water below. He wasn't really sure what he was doing. He was taking care of another life, out of pity…

But, he didn't pity Shan, did he?

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I stepped into the shower, the hot water immediately taking my breath away. It was the first real shower I had taken in a month. I had no idea that I was completely and utterly disgusting, until the water below my feet burned a sickly brown color, sinking into the drain. I looked down at my hands, noticing that they were still terrible looking. My fingernails had cracked and a couple of them were really close to being ripped off, from struggling. I should have killed them sooner. My body would at least be attractive, if I had killed them sooner.

I stepped out of the hot stream, into a corner, and leaned my head on the wall. The pressure against my bruised skin felt good, because it hurt. It's all I wanted to feel right now. I wanted hurt. I wanted to feel anything…

That's when the first broken sob left my lips. Glenn couldn't hear me over his waling, and the rest of the group would continue drinking and laughing through the night. I could hear them carrying on again, all the way down the hall. I closed my eyes tightly, moving my shoulders. The motion hurt. The motion reminded me that even though I was broken, the world had to continue spinning, as it had since I joined the group.

What I didn't expect, however, was the soft touch against my back. I flinched. The last time my back had been touched, I was being taken against my will. I was being forced out of my rights, and everything was being taken from me. However, this touch caused me to sigh, my breath hitching completely as the familiar fingers traced their way along my tattoo. That tattoo…

I felt like the tattoo was something that made me vulnerable to Daryl. My mom had forced me to take a long vacation in Miami, only weeks before the outbreak. While drunk, I went to a shop with my high school buddies, to watch them get tongue piercings. What started off as a simple hour of piercing turned seven hours of tattooing. The embarrassing part was the fact that I used a picture of Daryl for reference. Where I got the picture, and why my drunken mind thought that it was a good idea to tattoo a piece of Daryl's clothing on my back, forever, stumped me, especially since I didn't figure he owned the vest anymore.

As his hands finished tracing my back, I shuddered, feeling the same rough fingers trace up my sides, to my hair. What had come over him, all of the sudden? He was never this toned down, even at home. He had always been up in arms…

"Turn around…", I heard him whisper. The whisper sent chills down my spine. It was soft and subtle, yet sweet, and worrisome. I did as I was told, turning to face him. My eyes cast immediately to the floor, watching the disgusting water as it went through the tiny holes of the drain below. His hands were gentle, as they began wiping blood from my chest, and shoulders. I closed my eyes, as his hands traveled to run both thumbs over my streaked cheeks. As terrible as I looked, he seemed to want to be around me more, to take care of me. I opened my eyes, letting them trace the cuts of his stomach, wall the way up to his piercing blue eyes, in time for our foreheads to touch.

Those hands made their way down my face, and his finger tips traced my cracked lips, like artwork. Before I had time to push him away, or make any comment of his treatment, I felt his lips brush across mine, in a simple kiss. His touch was still soft, and I appreciated the gesture. I placed both my hands against his chest, running them down over his abs, and back up as I deepened the kiss. He pushed against me, gently pressing my back against the wall. The tile was cold as ice, and shocked me at first, but I didn't have the time to react, before his mouth was covering mine again. I smiled against the kiss, hearing his soft growls. My hands were shaking against his chest, as I began to feel nervous of the whole scenario. The memories that tried to fill my head caused my stomach to fall. Sex…with someone who cared, was something foreign, thanks to those dead assholes…

Suddenly, there was a tap on my door. Shit. I didn't realize the shower had turned off, and the singing had stopped.

"Shan? You okay in there?", I heard Glenn slur out. Daryl pulled away, pressing his forehead against mine in a sigh. I felt terrible for him. It had to have taken a lot of willpower to even step foot in this room, much less into the shower. He had come all this way to take care of me…to show me he cared, and instead of returning the favor, I had to cut it short, for Glenn. I turned my head to the side, his head sliding to my temple.

"Yeah. I'm good…Do you need something?", I asked, running my hand through Daryl's messy hair.

"I don't know if I can find my room, man…", Glenn replied and I sighed. He would stand out there the entire time, if I didn't help him. So, I made the adult decision, and pressed against Daryl's chest. He took the hint, backing up to let me out.

"I'll see you in the room, in a few…alright?", I said, and he nodded. I could see it all over his face. He was trying to keep his frustration at a minimum. That…I appreciated. I tiptoed a bit, and kissed his nose, before turning to grab a towel. With it securely around me, I stepped out of the shower, lending a pitiful smile to Glenn, who was sitting against the wall, snoozing a bit, "C'mon…I'll help you."

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Daryl was the first to initiate the kiss. There was a first time for everything, and this was definitely a first. He loved women, but he wasn't good with them. It wasn't like he had been with many, either. The simple kiss reminded him of their time on the farm. He was proud of it, and knew what it conveyed. By the way Shan kissed back, he assumed she knew, as well. The touch of her fingers sent chills down his spine, and he felt like flinching away from them. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his body forming a cage around her tiny frame.

Their relationship had only ever been physical to him, up until the day that he lost her. They say you don't know what you have until you lose it. Well…Daryl had definitely learned that lesson better than anyone. He took her virginity without a second thought. He had pretended that she was disposable, because for the longest time, she was. She would have gone away to college, had she not stayed around to 'help her parents'. She had given up college, for him. For that, he still kicked himself in the ass, because he never felt the same. He never felt much of anything for her. She was the farmer's kid. He loved her, sure…but he didn't realize how much…

The thoughts running through his head sent more feelings through his body, as he pushed Shan against the wall. This time, the kiss wasn't as simple, but it was still soft. Her mouth seemed to be broken, like the rest of her body. He didn't want to think about it…only her standing in front of him.

"You okay in there?", he heard, and his reaction was immediate. What he wouldn't give for a gun…

He stepped back, letting Shan take care of Glenn. Her movement from the shower left him feeling cold, for some reason. No…that was the lack of hot water leaving the pipes. Dammit.

He finished washing his body, and shut the water off. Instead of leaving the little room, he leaned his head against the wall, and stared at the sterile colors. They were safe. There was no reason to fear. Shan was safe. He was safe. There wasn't a better time, nor had there ever been a better time to show her how beautiful, and important she was. There would never be a better time to let his walls down, and let her in. Pushing away from the wall, he grabbed the last remaining towel, and wrapped it around his waist. He then headed back to the game room, hopeful that she would actually be there.

**So, what did you think? I didn't want an over complicated scene for them because neither of them are over complicated. The worst is yet to come, as Daryl will find out soon enough what Shan has really been through. :) Hope you loved it. Review!**


	11. Chapter 11: TS-19-Part 3

**Authors note: This chapter is uber long, and I apologize. I'm not completely satisfied with how things turned out, but there wasn't a lot going on for Daryl in this part of the story. So, most of the scenes with the other characters were cut out, to make room for flashbacks and Daryl moments that sometimes get pushed under the rug in the angst heavy episodes.**

**I hope you enjoy. Feel free to make comments and suggestions, by reviewing. Chapter 12 may be up tomorrow, but if it's not, I'll have it up Tuesday night after dinner. **

**Thanks for reviewing and being a lovely audience!**

* * *

Chapter 11: TS-19 Part 3

Glenn dropped to his bed on the floor, as soon as we entered the room. I smiled, kneeling to cover him with a blanket. He was naked, and wrapped in a towel, but he was in bed where he couldn't hurt himself. That was the only part that mattered. Though, the idea of T-dog waking up to lots of Glenn skin almost made me giggle.

"Goodnight, Glenn…", I whispered, before kissing his temple, and sneaking out the door. I could already hear his quiet snores, as I pulled the door shut with a soft 'click'. Now came the awkward moment with Daryl. After he let his walls down in the shower, I couldn't help but feel like he would push me away, now. He would be rude, and spiteful, pretending that it was my fault he opened up, and that it was my fault he had any feelings at all. I dared him…

I tightened the towel around my chest as I reached the door to the game room. The rest of the group was quiet. I no longer heard them screaming and cutting up from the cafeteria. Good. The alcohol would help them get some sleep for a change.

* * *

_My horse trotted to the fence, before doing a small dance. I smiled, as my momma clapped for him. He was a tough one to break, and I had managed it in a few short weeks. It was a great way to spend my summer vacation. I was the typical farm girl, slim, but muscular, with a dark tan. I was always running around outside, playing with the horses, pulling weeds, doing whatever was necessary for my daddy. _

_ Something was different about this day. The old abandoned house across the hunting land had been purchased, much to my daddy's surprise. We owned the land, and he was halfway planning to plow the house into the dust, before two guys bought the thing. One of the men, worked at the plant with my dad. I remembered his name from my daddy's stories, and how he had spent nights on the farm, to get away from his brother and father after his mother died in a house fire. It made me happy, to hear he was doing well, after everything._

_ "I'm gonna go take this down to the boys…You wanna ride me?", my dad asked, holding up two huge bags of groceries. I shrugged, clicking my mouth at the horse below me. Like clockwork, he spun around, and walked through the gate my daddy was holding open. I scooted forward on the saddle and patted behind me, while removing my foot from its bridle._

_ "We feedin' orphans now?", I asked him, my voice showing my teenage attitude. I was a sixteen-year-old tomboy at this point, in case you were wondering. I was pretty snotty, too. I went to school, and came home to a huge house, and all the food I could eat. I was one of the lucky kids, who never had to worry about a thing, except staying skinny._

_ "They can't be orphans, now can they? I've told you about the Dixons. Both of those boys are old enough to have a say…they just choose to stay together…", my dad chimed in, ruffling my hair from behind. I sighed, kicking the sides of my horse, starting the gallop across the wooded land._

* * *

I let out a deep sigh, coming out of my memory. Who knew that such a simple issue would be my life, in a few short years? Who could have guessed that I would fall hard for someone I wasn't even supposed to know. He was beneath me, and much older. Swallowing the thoughts down I reached forward, pushing on the door. As it creeped open, it revealed Daryl, laying on one of the white couches with a book covering his face. It was a children's book, and he flipped through the pages, looking at all the pictures. The sight brought a smile to my face, as I shut the door. I tiptoed across the sticky tile floor, over to the foot of the couch.

"You never were much of a stalker…", Daryl murmured, not moving his eyes from the book . His voice held amusement. I stopped my sneaking, and crossed my arms, shooting a glare to him, "You never were much of a pouter, either…"

He closed the book, tossing it onto the end table, and threw his legs over the front of the couch to stand up. As he did, he looked me over.

"You ain't got no clothes?", he asked, and I frowned. He understood what the frown meant, and nodded, fidgeting a bit. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and was clad in simple pair of black pants. He looked surprisingly clean, considering the short shower he was able to squeeze out. I could also see, just from staring at his torso, he had lost a ton of weight, since leaving the farm. Being on the road would do that to you. He no longer had my momma's cooking to keep him healthy. He was stuck with scraps, and minimal scraps, at that.

Rummaging around in a bag by the couch, he pulled out a tiny tank top, and a pair of jeans. He weighed them in his hands for a few seconds, as if he was embarrassed of their story, and turned to me. I narrowed my eyes at him, as he thrust the clothing toward me.

"Where'd you?..", I started, before he cleared this throat, and ran the back of one hand under his nose.

"When we went back for Merle..there was all this stuff just layin' around. I didn't see no hurt in bringin' some of it back to camp. I wasn't happy to see ya, but I didn't see no use in you walkin' around…like you were…", he explained with a shrug, looking down at his hands, as he picked his nails. I smiled, taking the clothes from him. The gesture almost brought tears to my eyes.

"Um…", I said, narrowing my eyes to fight back the tears, "…Thank you."

He nodded, again, wringing his hands together, before turning to the bookshelf. The way he stood, registered as privacy, and it made me smile even brighter. This was about as close to Darylness, as I could ask for. I dropped my towel to the floor, and unfolded the tank top. It was a bit large for me, but I didn't mind much, as I slipped it over my head. The feeling of clean fabric against my skin was like heaven, and I let out a sigh, before sliding the jeans over my legs. They too were a bit big, in the waist, but that could be fixed with a belt. I mentally set a reminder to steal Glenn's, tomorrow.

"I'm decent…", I whispered, and Daryl let his hand drop from the bookshelf, turning to me. The look was more familiar, this time. Maybe I was beginning to look more myself. Maybe he hadn't been able to look at me the same, earlier, because of how terrible I looked…

"Y'er face looks a lot better than yesterday.", he said simply, stepping up to me. He ran a single finger along the line under my blackened eye, erasing a tear that I didn't realize had fallen. I closed both my eyes, reaching up to grab his hand. The hand flinched, but flattened, allowing me to press it tightly against the sore skin of my cheek.

_**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD**_

Daryl never cared much for books, or libraries. He spent a bit of time in a library once, when it was raining, and he was running around. Reading books willingly, however, was never his thing. He hadn't finished school, as Shan's father encouraged him to do. If only she knew. If only she knew how much her family meant to him, before she was ever born. He hated to think of where they were, of what they had to deal with in all of this, if they were even alive.

The padding of bare feet on tile caught his attention, and he glanced, with one eye, over the top of the book. The sight of Shan caused his heart to leap into his throat. She looked just as bad, now, as she had looked before, only now, she was more exposed. She was more vulnerable. It almost made him sick, the feelings that overwhelmed his breathing, and his heart rate.

'Calm yourself down, dammit.' he said to himself, in his mind.

* * *

_Daryl sat down one of the few boxes he and Merle had packed from the old house, sliding it against the wall. God forbid Merle stepped through the living room and tripped. He would hear about that fall for the rest of his life. As he stood up straight, he noticed a horse galloping toward his house, and he trotted out the front door, to see what was up. The sight of a horse reminded him. He needed to get Riot some food and water, if he was going to chill in his trailer, for now. He stepped up beside the trailer, reaching a hand up to pet Riot's nose, "Don't you start yer shit…", he whispered to him, with a small smirk._

_ As the horse approached closer, he recognized the face on the back. That was his boss. However, the girl that steered the horse was new. From her prominent ears, and red hair, he assumed it was Mr. Berry's daughter._

_ "Hey, Daryl!", Mr. Berry yelled, sliding off the back of the horse, to greet Daryl face to face. He held out a hand, and Daryl took it gladly, letting himself smile, "How's the house lookin'?"_

_ "It's liveable…better than livin' in that trailer any longer. Thanks, by the way. Sorry bout Merle…", Daryl stammered, trying to make up for Merle's rudeness at dinner the night before. While talking prices, Merle had gone off the deep end, and even threatened the old man. Of course, he left it for Daryl to do damage control. The old man had basically let them live there for free. There wasn't much else they could expect, but Merle was a strong soul. Yeah…that's what you could call it._

_ "Don't worry about it. I've been around you boys long enough to understand…He's a little hot headed.", Daryl sighed, hearing these words, and nodded, "Where is he, anyways?"_

_ "He's pickin' up some stuff in the city. He'll be back in a few hours.", Daryl explained, running his hand over Riot's nose again. He softly pulled the bridle from him, draping it over his arm._

_ "Well, we brought you guys some little groceries. It's not much, but it might help you out for a week or so, until you can get into the city on your own. I was wondering if you wanted to um…help out around the house?"_

_ Daryl stared at the old man as if he was crazy. He was offering him a job on the farm. He was offering him not only a place to live, but a job…_

_ "Um…Yeah. What do you need me to do?", Daryl asked, squinting in the hot sun. The old man smirked, and raised his own hand to Riot's nose, patting him, and handing him a carrot he had brought over._

_ "She's the boss. Ask her.", he said, gesturing to the girl on the horse. He frowned as she gave a disobedient frown, herself, and she jumped from the horses back, "Daryl, this is my daughter…Shanelle."_

_ "Shan. Don't ever call me Shanelle…ever…", the girl spoke up. Daryl huffed a bit, looking her over. She was a looker, that was for sure, but she wasn't exactly what he was expecting from the old man._

_ "Shan…", he let the name flow off of his tongue, and sighed. This was going to be a long summer._

_ "Yeah. So, you can start any time. The main thing that needs to be done is the hay truck needs unloaded. I would do it, but my mom won't let me. So, I guess that's your job, now. Stack it against the barn, and let me know when you're done…", she spouted off, causing Daryl to raise an eyebrow and look at the old man._

_ "I know. Just…ease into it. Alright, let's get back and see what your mom's fixin' for supper, shall we?", the old man asked Shan. Daryl watched, as they both piled on top of the Palomino, and began their trek back to their house. He opened one of the grocery sacks, realizing that he was holding a few hundred dollars in groceries. Maybe he and Merle could make a home for themselves here, after all._

* * *

"I'm decent…", she said, ripping him from his day dream. He often thought back on how easy things were. Sure, the days were hot, and the tea tasted like lake water, but at least he had a roof over his head, and there weren't Walkers everywhere, threatening everything he knew. Though, once you got used to the underground living conditions, this place wasn't so bad.

He turned, and made a comment about her face. He could have kicked himself for bringing it up, but forgetting it wouldn't make it easier to swallow. It would just make things more complicated further down the road. It needed to be addressed, so she could move forward, knowing that she was safe, forever. As his hands brushed over the swollen skin, he sighed. Any other man would look at her, all battered and bruised, and wouldn't want her near, as if they could catch her pain like a disease. He, on the other hand, appreciated her. He appreciated all of the little quirks that were there. The thought of losing her had pushed him away. The thought of losing her twice, had completely shut off any feeling she had left for her. Now, they were in a haven. They could be themselves and start over.

With his hand flattened against her cheek, he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her face to his. He pressed his lips against her forehead, with his eyes closed, simply taking in the feelings – those overwhelming, nauseating feelings.

He ran his hands down her arms, feeling the scars with his fingertips, like speed bumps, before he reached her hands. Gripping them tightly, he pulled her backward, toward one of the couches. As he sunk down into the couch, he pulled her down with him, forcing her to lie back with him.

_**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WD**_

More affection. I almost had to pinch myself, because of all the affection, as I felt his wet lips against my forehead. It had to be the most calming gesture he had ever given to me. As he drug me to the couch, I thought about resisting. I wanted to talk. I didn't want to lie down and be lovey. However, the second my head hit his arm, I turned, and buried my face in his neck, slowly drifting off to sleep.

At one point, as I drifted, I could have sworn I heard him humming to me, and that song followed me into my dreams.

* * *

_A few weeks had passed since Daryl Dixon had moved in across the way. I didn't hear much from him, but he was one hell of a worker. The second he finished a project, he was asking my momma for more. I had to admit, I should have given him more credit, when I met him. You can look like a piece of trash, and still be a good person._

_ "Take this out to Daryl, will you?", my momma said to me, thrusting a jug of tea and a plastic cup at my chest. I shot her back a pout of laziness, but realizing I wasn't going to win, I groaned and started out the door with the drinks. It was at least a hundred degrees outside, and there Daryl was, cutting down a tree on the back side of the property._

_ "Hey. Take a break and drink this. My momma made it for you…", I said to him as I drew closer. He stopped for a second, leaving his back bent over the chainsaw, before starting in again, "Suit yourself, I guess.."_

_ Without thinking, I sat the jug of tea on top of the tractor, and the cup too. _

_ "You think it's alright to mess with people?", he asked, and I stopped cold, my expression questioning._

_ "What?"_

_ "I see the way you look at me…the things you wear. I'm not stupid…", he snapped at me. I didn't want to react to harshly, as I looked down at my body. I really wasn't meaning to tease anyone, but since he mentioned it, I ran my eyes over his body. He was shirtless, and his jeans were soaked with sweat._

_ "I don't do nothin' to you…", I snapped back, tearing my eyes from him to walk back to the house. It wasn't more than two seconds that I felt his rough hand around my wrist. I twisted and pulled my own arm to get away from him, but it was no use. I turned to him, raising a hand to slap his face, but the hand was caught, and pressed against my chest with the other one. I stared at his eyes, narrowing my own, "What is your problem?"_

_ "You trying to piss off your dad, is my problem…", he said softly, staring at my lips. I couldn't help but suck them into my mouth. I wasn't trying to piss off my daddy. What was the use of having a decent looking farm hand, if I couldn't look at him? That was all it was. In Daryl's eyes, however, it was more than that, "Stop comin' out here…"_

_ "I'm your boss. If you want me to stop coming around…you'll have to quit."_

_ "Fine. Then, I quit…", he said simply, shoving my arms back to me, and he walked away. I gasped, covering my mouth. I didn't know what else to do. So, I followed him into the woods._

* * *

_**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD**_

There was no sun to wake him up. No. There was only a loud alarm, as he began to stir. The voice was that damn computer Jenner had been talking to, earlier. Daryl listened carefully, trying not to stir too much, as Shan's face was plastered, sweaty and warm, against his chest.

"One hour…", the voice rang out, not once, but eight or nine times. It was warning of something. In this place, that warning couldn't be a good thing. He reached up and ran a hand down Shan's face, causing her eyes to flutter open. She always was a soft sleeper.

"I'm gonna go look for the others…Somethin's goin' on.", he said softly. Shan immediately looked around, before sitting up on her own, with a nod.

"Let's go find them, then."

They stepped into the hallway, looking around, as Daryl threw a tshirt on, to cover himself. The building was quiet at first, but Rick's voice echoed down the hall.

"Vi…What happens when the generators run out of power?", he asked the computer, and got back an honest reply.

"Facility wide decontamination…", the female voice called, as the lights began to shut off. The air, Daryl realized, had already shut off, hence the sweat.

"What does that mean?", he asked from the door way of the lab. Jenner looked over to him, as if he was stupid, "I'm talkin' to you. What the hell does that mean?"

Shan grabbed his arm, which he allowed, but still watched Jenner's movements. Jenner began explaining why the building was shutting down, and even though Daryl didn't understand what he was talking about, he still panicked a bit, and drug Shan over to Rick, as Rick began spouting orders.

"Everyone grab their things, we're getting the hell out of here…", Rick said, looking each of them in the eyes as he made a circle, "NOW!"

Shan flinched against Daryl's side, as another alarm began to go off, signalling more shutdowns.

"Thirty minutes to full decontamination…"

_**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD**_

"Thirty minutes…", the voice echoed, as I looked at the clock for confirmation. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think. What did the computer mean by decontamination? It was a mystery that even Daryl seemed tense about.

"Daryl…Come on. Let's go…", I murmured to him. Then, our hope ran dry as the door shut behind us.

"Did he just lock us in here?! He locked us in here!", Glenn yelled to Daryl, desperation in every word. Daryl did what came naturally. He attacked.

"You SON OF A BITCH!", Daryl screamed, taking off at a sprint. Rick reacted faster than I did, signaling for the other guys to grab him, and keep him off of Jenner. Before they could reach him, he had a handful of Jenner's hair, and it took both T-dog and Shane to wrench it from his hands, "You locked us in here! I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya! Get off me! I'm gonna kill the mother fucker!"

Once again, I was beginning to feel a little woozy. I couldn't believe we were all going down this way. Jenner knew what was happening. He knew that he was locking us in a death trap.

"You open this door, right now.", I heard Rick say, and Jenner began explaining why we couldn't leave. I didn't hear much more, except 'It catches the air on fire'. Bringing my hands up to my face, in shock. All this way; we came all this way, to die at the hands of some computers.

Daryl ran past me, up the ramp with Glenn in tow. He threw the whiskey bottle against the hard metal, and it shattered, but didn't make a dent. Seeing my face, he growled, and began running down the ramp, toward Jenner again, "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!"

Jenner's face stayed solemn, as he watched the computer monitor, and did nothing. Sophia and Carl began crying hysterically, as did Carol. I felt like joining the party, but decided to stick it out, instead. So, I ran over to Jacqui, taking her into my arms, "This can't be happening…"

"Baby..Don't worry. We're all fine…right where we are.", she replied, causing me to pull my face from her shoulder. I stared into her eyes, as the realization set in. She didn't plan to go anywhere with us. As Daryl and Shane began beating the fireproof door with axes, I walked over to Jenner, spinning his chair around to face me.

"Open the fucking door…Please. Just do it.", I said to him, making sure my voice was laced in urgency.

"What's the point?", Jenner asked in a calm voice, "You all know what's out there. It's a short life, and a cruel and agonizing death. Leave well enough alone, and your death will be quick…painless."

"We can't make a dent…", Shan interrupted, while Daryl continued hammering at the door.

"Those doors are built to withstand a rocket launcher…", Jenner explained in a mocking way, which pissed Daryl off instantly.

"Y'er head ain't!", he screamed, coming at Jenner with the axe. Once again, the men had to grab him. Only, this time, it took all of them to pry the axe from his hands, "Let me go you sons of bitches."

"Daryl! Back off! If he dies…we all die..", Rick explained as he pushed Daryl to me. I grabbed the tops of his arms, holding him back from the fight he fully planned to pick with Jenner. It's a good thing he didn't have a gun..

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, while Rick was negotiating with Jenner, Shane rushed him with a shotgun. I covered my ears, tired of the screaming, and buried my face in Daryl's back. A few shots were fired, and I refused to look, afraid that it would ruin my morale. If it was over, I wanted to go down without fear. I didn't hear much of the conversation that was had after the gunshots over the sound of Daryl pounding away at the door, again.

I leaned against the railing, placing a hand on my face, "Daryl…it's not gonna work."

"Well, I ain't layin' on my back like a pussy…goin' down with this deathtrap…", he panted, before continuing his assault. The doors let out a sigh of hydraulics and opened, lighting Daryl's face, "C'mon!"

I turned to the group, "Come on. Let's go!", I screamed, grabbing Jacqui's hand. She wrenched it from me, as the rest of the group passed us.

"I'm stayin'.", She said, simply, her eyes filled with tears. I shook my head, grabbing her arm. If I had to, I would force her out of this building, before I let her go up in flames, "No, baby. I'm stayin'."

"C'mon! We only got like three minutes!", Daryl yelled from the hallway, "SHAN! COME ON!"

"I'm not leaving you here. You hear me?"

"Yes you are. You're going to go on…and you're gonna keep fighting. This is your world, sweetheart.", Jacqui whispered, and my levee broke. Tears began streaming down my face, and I grabbed for her.

"Please don't do this to me…", I pleaded, letting out a broken sob.

"You can't be selfish. Go! Go!"

"We don't have time for kissin' goodbye. We gotta go.", Daryl demanded, grabbing my arm and wrenching it from Jacqui's shirt. He then lifted me over his shoulder, and proceeded to carry me down the hall.

"Jacqui! No! Let me down…I have to go back!", I screamed in Daryl's ear. His muscles were tense as he carried me to the lobby. He ignored my pleas and punches, but ordered T-dog to hold me, "No…Oh no…", I whined as the men began beating at the bullet proof glass.

Suddenly, everyone took cover. T-dog covered my head with his arms as the window area exploded, shattering the glass to bits. I couldn't see a clock anymore, but somewhere in my mind, I knew I could go back. So, I pulled away from T-dog, standing to my feet to run. I was speared, as Daryl grabbed me around the midsection and proceeded to drag me through the window.

"Daryl, no! We have to go back. I can't just leave her!"

"She's dead! Now, run!", he yelled, dropping me to my feet in the grass. He decapitated a Walker with the axe was wielding, and grabbed my hand, forcing me forward. Once to the truck, he opened the door, and shoved me in, "If I have to tie you up…I will. She's dead. No one is gonna risk it…Get down!"

I bent double in the truck cab, and felt Daryl's hands on the back of my head, protecting it as the heat engulfed the truck. The explosion wasn't loud. It was just a fire, but the realization hit me. I had lost someone else. Laying my head on the floorboard, I began to cry harder than I remembered ever crying. In his fashion, Daryl started the truck, and we pulled away.

"I hate you…", I whispered. Receiving only a nod of the head from Daryl, as he looked in the rearview to check on Rick's truckload.

"You keep sayin' that. Take all the shots you want, if it makes you feel better…", he mumbled, speeding up.

Once again, we wandered aimlessly through the streets of Atlanta, searching for a place to call home. Now, I wasn't so sure a place existed. I wasn't so sure the world wasn't dead…and we were holding on by a thread. But screw Daryl.

Screw. Daryl.

* * *

**Before I have a riot on my hands. No, she's not so mad at him that they won't speak or anything. She's just a little hurt that he didn't try to save Jacqui, too. The Shan/Jacqui story was cute, and he will soon learn that she holds onto people, unlike him.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Review review review!**


	12. Chapter 12: Hate Is A Strong Word

**Author's Note: Hello my darlings! I'm so sorry I've kept you waiting longer than I promised. Christmas has been hectic, and I've dealt with some other things, but I still came through! Here's your Chapter 12. It's mostly flashback, which I have to say something about...**

**From now on, there will be flashbacks in almost every chapter. Sometimes it won't be appropriate to add them, and I won't, and sometimes there will only be flashbacks. I am sure you'll be fine with that. :) I hope you enjoy the chapter, especially the backstory. Also, if you don't recognize the scene at the end...it's a deleted scene from season 2. I would post a link, but I don't think I'm allowed to. Basically, Rick and Co. go back to the Vatos, and everyone's dead. So, they stay a night, and then season 2 starts from where it really started. I think the scene should have been left in the show, and so it's going to be played out here. **

**Enough of my rambling. Enjoy! Review!**

* * *

Chapter 12: Hate Is A Strong Word

Once away from the main part of the city, Rick honked his horn, causing the entire caravan to pull over. As Daryl swerved to the side of the road, he glanced over to me. I didn't return the glance, though I could see his worry from the corner of my eye. He kept the look, waiting for my eyes to turn to him. Instead, I looked straight ahead, zoning out on the road in front of us.

I heard him sigh, "I'll be back.", and he left the truck. I let out my own ragged sigh as the roar of silence engulfed my mind. Jacqui was dead. She had decided to leave the world. She wasn't alone. She had people. People loved her. People relied on her, and she chose to leave. If I sat here, and I thought real hard, I could do the same. I could convince myself that it was over. It was time to let go, and let Daryl do his thing. He could survive without me, just like he had before he found me. He would go on, and…probably die young, like he always figured.

I looked to the rearview mirror, watching him talk to Rick. They chatted as if they were best friends. After a few nods, Daryl began letting down the tailgate. He grabbed two gas cans, throwing them out onto the road for T-dog to take, and then climbed into the truck bed, pushing the kickstand back on the Franken-Harley. What the hell was he doing, now?

* * *

_"Dammit…", I sighed, as the first drop of rain hit my arm. The woods flooded during hard rains, and I was wearing my new boots. Daddy would kill me, if I ruined them. I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Daryl's skin between the trees, "Daryl!"_

_ I stepped over a stump, just as something rustled the leaves, about ten yards from me. I shot a look in that direction, breathing a bit heavy. I had hunted with my father. I knew how to walk the woods, but I also knew that there were bobcats in the area, and rattlesnakes. The last thing I needed was to step on a snake, or come across a bobcat with no weapon._

_ "Daryl! I know you aren't out of the woods…", I said in a loud whisper, as the rain began to pour, "Shit…"_

_ I didn't know whether to move, or stay still. The rain was hammering the dry leaves, and the noise overwhelmed my ears, as the leaves rustled near me again._

_ "Yer smart…", I heard Daryl call from somewhere, I turned around, flinging my drenched hair over my shoulder. My fists clenched, and I blew water from my lips, "…Why'd you follow me?"_

_ I turned again, as more water dripped into my eyes. He was playing games with me, and he wanted to know why I was? I spun in a circle, trying to pinpoint his voice in the poor visibility._

_ "If you quit…my daddy will have my head…", I called out, which elicited a chuckle from him. The chuckle was the last thing I wanted to hear from a man like Daryl Dixon. It meant he was thinking mischievous thoughts. It meant he was playing more games, "I thought you didn't like 'messin' with people'."_

_ "I never said I didn't like it. I jus' don't think it's a good idea for you to do it. Yer just a kid."_

_ "I am not…", I answered, glaring into nothing. I sputtered a bit, hearing him laugh._

_ "Sixteen is a kid…"_

_ "I'm old enough to know right from wrong. I ain't no kid…", I demanded, and finally caught a glimpse of Daryl as he leaned against a tree in my vision._

_ "And young enough to get a man in a lot of trouble. Name one reason, besides yer daddy…why I shouldn't quit."_

_ "I'm not playin' games with you.", I said, trying to look scary to him. By the amused smirk on his face, I was failing._

_ "That's all you do, kid. You play games. You get in someone's head…and…"_

_ "Don't call me kid!", I yelled, stomping forward. He almost giggled at my anger, and prepared for the punch that I landed against his chest. He held up both hands in feigned fear, "Asshole! What's so great about you, anyways? You think you're God's gift to the earth. You think I'm swooning all over you. You think I care about…about any of it? What if I am a kid? I see the way you look at me. You're a dirty pervert…if I'm a kid. You pervert…Go ahead an' quit. See how long it takes me before I tell my…"_

_ Before I could finish my words, he took a step, and his hands shot forward, grabbing my hair. I would have screamed, but the kiss that followed stopped any sound from leaving my throat. For his hands to be so rough, his lips were soft and gentle. His fingers in my hair were urgent and grabby, which caused my heart to beat out of control. The kiss spoke of his personality, perfectly. While he tended to be volatile, and over reactive, he was also careful and sweet…I reluctantly kissed back, almost afraid that he was joking to embarrass me._

_ I pushed forward, slamming his back against a large tree. He pulled away, expelling a breath, a grin plastered to his face, although I knew that his back would probably be covered in scrapes from the bark. I didn't fret long, though. I smashed my lips against his again, sharing a few hungry kisses, as my hands traveled to his belt. I was caught off guard, as his hand slapped over my wrist tightly, stopping my movements. My eyes shot open to stare at him, scanning his eyes as I pulled away from the kiss._

_ "What?", I asked him between gasps, taking the time to trace the deep scar along his nose with my eyes. I began to wonder what had happened, there. It looked as though it was a gruesome story, but it wasn't a story to ask about. His eyes stayed locked on my lips as he shrugged._

_ "Don't feel right…", he said softly._

_ "Oh…well…", I stammered, reaching up to sweep the dripping hair from his forehead, "Why?"_

_ Without answering, he stepped away from me, running his hands through his hair. Great. Now, I had made him feel like a dirty pervert. Good job, Shan. I followed him, as he walked toward his side of the woods. Their house peeked through the trees, and was a pasture's walk outside of the tree line. If I let him get that far, Merle would have something to say about me following, and there was a good chance that they would up and move, on Daryl's account, before my daddy ever had a chance to speak to them about it. Sighing at the over reaction of my mind, I followed him._

_ The rain made it tough on me, as I attempted to not get stuck in the mud. Around these woods, it was nothing but Mississippi Gumbo mud. _

_Translation: Glue meets quicksand._

_"Hey! Wait up…", I called to Daryl, and he turned on me, causing me to almost fall, in surprise. The lake behind me almost looked as if it was waiting for my fall._

_"Stop followin' me. Go home. Go back to yer farm…and yer fancy clothes…yer horses. Go back to yer life. Tell yer dad thanks, but I can't do this."_

_"Why? Is it me?! Huh?", I asked, suddenly feeling like a bitch for putting him in this situation, "I'll leave you alone. Alright? I'll leave you alone, and I'll…leave notes for you and your jobs. You'll never see me again."_

_"That's just it. I haven't been able to stop thinkin' about you since the day I moved here…", Daryl admitted, and my face scrunched in confusion. The words escaping his mouth were so out of character. He was so quiet and…angry all the time._

_"What? That's…"_

_"Exactly. Yer a kid…Go be a kid.",he spat, his face close to mine. I pouted for a second, spitting a bit of water as the rain continued to pour. He didn't move, as he waited for me to turn around, to listen to him…as if he was really scary. Instead, I did what I do best. I crossed my arms over my chest, shifted to one leg, and I glared. I wasn't moving._

_"I said git!", he yelled, almost touching noses with me. This was HIS thing. He pushed people away. He did his best to hurt them, and drag them down, until they left him. I could tell by the hurt look in his face as he screamed. The biggest part of him wanted me to stay…to do what I could. He just wanted someone to stay._

_"I'm not leavin'. Think whatever you want of me. Call me a kid. Take a shot at me, if you have to. I'm open…", I said, reaching down to pick up his hand. A lot had changed in the last few minutes. A lot of annoyance had shifted to caring…to something completely foreign to him. He scoffed, shaking his head, and tearing his eyes from me._

_"Y'er hilarious, you know that? You come out to the fields all annoyed and shit…actin' like you can't stand the sight of me. Now, I show you a tiny bit of attention…and yer followin' me like a puppy. Well, I don't want that from you…from no kid! It's all you'll do, til you get me in trouble. You'll follow me around, obsessin'…talkin' about me in yer little book…", I swallowed, trying to remind myself that he was just pushing. This was Daryl, pushing a wall. He took a few deep breaths, before slapping at the air with both hands, "Hell with ya…I quit."_

_"You're lying to yourself…", I murmured, flinching at the look in his eyes, "You're tryin' so hard to hurt me, right now, because you think it'll be easier for me to walk away, and let you go. I'm not…leavin'."_

_"No…I am.", he said, simply._

_"You do that. You do that, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life…I promise you, Dixon."_

_Scoffing, he turned, and walked away from me, leaving me alone in the woods, in the pouring rain._

* * *

Someone pecked on the window, and I jumped, seeing Daryl's face a couple of inches from mine. He was a bit sweatier than before, and he looked a bit worried.

"We gotta save some gas…So, Rick wants us to dump the trucks. Get yer stuff."

"What are we gonna do without the truck?", I asked, causing Daryl to roll his eyes at my density.

"Just get yer stuff and come on…", he said, signaling to the bike. I raised my eyebrows at his attitude, and grabbed the bag next to me, along with my Python. Before I could ever reach for the handle, he had wrenched the door open, and raised his arm over it, like a drawbridge for me to exit. I looked to the ground and hopped down. The rest of the group had already dispersed to their respective vehicles, and watched Daryl and I through the windshields, like a show. I attempted not to notice, but their eyes burned through me, and honestly, I felt like a zoo animal. I was the odd man out. I was the hick, along side of the 'wild' man that they all avoided. Maybe they were trying to figure out my secret.

I looked at the bike, waiting for him to climb on. He kicked the kickstand up, and swung a leg over, waiting for me. He didn't make eye contact with me, as I circled the bike, stuffing my things into the saddlebags. I was used to his mood swings, but I just thought that maybe…with the world ending…we were past all of them.

"Hold on.", he called over his shoulder, hammering down on the bike, causing it to roar to life. Carefully, I reached around him, trying to avoid the crossbow. I pushed it to the side, and laid my head on his back, as my hands met his hipbones. Satisfied that I was safe, he kicked the bike into gear, and we jerked forward, off to search some more.

We hadn't gone far, when a stench hit my nose. Even with my face buried in Daryl's back to combat motion sickness, the smell was overwhelming. I began to pull my face away, as Daryl's breathing picked up, but I made out his urgent whisper.

"Keep your head down…", he said quickly, running his right hand up my arm. I soon felt the cold metal of his knife sliding against my skin, and my own breathing began to shake. What was out there, that would have him pulling a weapon.

"Daryl?"

"Shh…", he hissed, shutting the motorcycle off. He walked us along, trying to be stealthy. That meant…Walkers. I tightened my grip on his waist, as I began shaking, "Yer alright…just keep calm…OH SHIT! SHANE! SHAAAANE!"

I jumped, pulling my head from his back as the Walkers began running at us. I had no weapon. I had nothing to defend myself with, and I was the bait, strapped to the back of the motorcycle. Wonderful.

"Daryl! Go! GO!", I screamed, as he revved the motorcycle up, jerking forward again.

"Shane! The RV! GET TO THE RV!", he screamed, drawing Walkers to us. Shane stumbled from his Jeep, shotgun in hand, and fired off a couple of rounds, as Walkers began moving away from him, and toward the roar of the motorcycle, "Hang on and don't look back…Put yer head down…"

I closed my eyes, letting out a nervous sigh as we sped up. I did as I was told. I buried my face in Daryl's back, trying to ignore the hands that slid along my legs and through my tangled hair. Walkers were everywhere around us, and at any moment, one of them could take us down, with a well-timed grab. They were all reaching and snapping. I heard a few snaps of teeth, before the feeling disappeared, along with the smell. There were no moans, only the roar of the motorcycle, as we reached an untouched part of the city. Rick honked, one short time, and we began to slow down, turning around to get behind the RV. Apparently Rick knew something we didn't.

Deep within the city, we reached an alley, greeted by Glenn's excited face. He had hope that I didn't, but I nodded to him, as Daryl walked the bike into the fenced area, and parked it. Glenn closed the fence, and jogged back to touch bases with Rick.

"What are we doin'?", I asked Daryl as I climbed off of the bike. He reached into the saddlebags, and pocketed a few things, as well as coming up with bullets for my Python somewhere. I narrowed my eyes as he loaded it with quick skill.

"Rick set some people up…gave 'em guns and stuff. I guess he figures they would return the favor…you alright?"

I sighed in relief, as he answered me, and nodded. He flipped the gun over for me to take from him. I did so, stuffing it in the hip of my jeans.

"How's yer head?", he asked, sweeping a strand of hair from my forehead.

"Fine. I'm all right. Let's just go see if these 'friends' are still here.", I answered, and he nodded, sweeping his eyes to the ground, before turning to catch up with Rick. I followed, avoiding the eyes of every other person in the group. They all looked at me as if I was going to explode, and honestly…I was indifferent to all of it. I didn't know them. They didn't know me. Like Daryl, I would rather keep it that way.

* * *

"I bet they're barely hanging on.", said Andrea, as she exited the RV, "What makes you think they'll take in strangers?"

"With all the guns we gave 'em, they'll prolly throw us a party…", Daryl answered her, walking ahead of the group, "Good call, for once."

Rick gave him a look, deciding to let it go, and chalk it up to Daryl being Daryl. The group climbed through windows and weaved in and out of the buildings, until Glenn lead them into the familiar hospital courtyard. It was more like another piece of dead city, as the walls had begun crumbling, and the smell from the streets had wafted in.

"Where are the lookouts?", Glenn spoke up, as the smell became more overwhelming. Daryl immediately felt the doubt creeping up into his stomach. This place had become overrun. He could feel it. The smell was from whoever was left. As they turned the corner, the doubt became reality. Walkers crouched over the remains of the guards, eating and growling. Daryl's eyes fell to the ground, as he felt Shan's face breathing hot air against his back. She obviously hadn't seen much of this. Well…she would get used to it.

He pulled away from her, raising Merle's pistol. Rick said all that needed to be said, "To hell with the noise…", and Daryl began firing off, pushing Shan back toward Lori and Carol. Guns popped off like fireworks, echoing through the buildings. Shan sunk to the ground, covering her ears, along with the other women, until the firing stopped. Daryl turned to her, his breathing ragged, as he grabbed her arm and pulled her from the ground. Who knew what else was happening out here. He wasn't having her blood on his hands…

"C'mon…get up…", he demanded, dragging her along. She stumbled, but didn't fight back as she followed him into the building. Rick's screaming wasn't helping his panic. He stepped through the shattered remains of the door, and shoved Shan against the wall, holding a hand to her chest to signal 'stay'. The hallway was deserted, other than the bodies of the inhabitants. He signaled for her to follow along with the women, sighing at the fact that she latched onto his belt, instead. Oh well. He didn't have time to fight with her.

"Keep your voices down…", Rick whispered, looking to Shan first. He glanced at her waist, where her gun peeked out. As she shook her head, he nodded his, and she pulled the gun out, taking the safety off, "Good, let's go…"

* * *

Daryl was scaring me, being so rough. I knew that he was afraid. He was at a disadvantage, but I didn't appreciate his attitude. Maybe I sent a weird message somewhere. As he removed his hand, and pointed to Carol, I shook my head, stepping up behind him. If he went down, I wasn't going to be sitting back like another woman. I wanted to be there…

Rick's look took me off guard. I didn't want the gun. It was loud, and it meant that I was attacking. What if the attackers here were human? I had a gun. I was a threat. I shook my head, but was left with no choice. Rick wasn't letting up. So, I pulled the gun from my pants, and took the safety off to please him. The little girl began panicking. I couldn't blame her, but right now, with everyone on edge, it wasn't the time for her to cry. Daryl turned on her, pointing to Carol's face violently, "Stick a sock in it! SHUT HER UP OR I WILL!", he whispered loudly. I reacted, by slapping his cheek a couple of times. He needed to snap out of it. He was being irrational.

"Stop it…Do you hear me?", I asked, looking into his eyes.

"Back the hell off…and I mean now!", Lori said from behind me. Daryl gave me a glare, transferring it to Lori. I turned, holding a hand out for Lori to back off of him. He was my problem… "Are we stayin' or goin'…", she asked Rick.

"We can't spare the fuel. We'll have to hunker down here for the night. Me, Shane, and Daryl will go and sweep the upstairs…make sure it's safe…", Rick answered, and the rest of the group nodded, "You guys work on a barrier here…"

I nodded along with everyone else, and began to turn to the doors behind us. Before I turned completely, I grabbed Daryl's hand, "Be careful…"

"Worry bout yerself…", he answered, a small smirk working at the corners of his mouth.

I was beginning to sense a theme, with us.

* * *

**Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13: Square 1 - Part 1

**Author's note: I'm so so so so sorry this took so long to post. Things have been unnecessarily busy the last few days. I had a job interview, I babysat for drunk people, and lots of things happened.**

**A small note about this chapter. It might seem off...because it's part of the character development. It's not real action-y, or romance-y, but those of you who enjoy lots of development will love it. Keep in mind that Shan wasn't always the way she is, now. So, don't be shocked by her attitude in the flashback. She was 16, and rich. lol**

**Enjoy and Review! I will TRY...I say TRY, because last time I promised, I failed you...I will TRY to have the second part of this up tonight or tomorrow afternoon. It's pretty much written in my head. Since this one wasn't too action-y.**

* * *

Chapter 13: Square 1 - Part 1

_ A week went by, after the incident in the woods. Daryl didn't come around. He didn't show up, and his work was delivered to my shoulders. How nice of him? I guessed that's what I did. I pissed people off. I was the farmer's daughter – the ultimate tease. I was the piece of ass that worked in front of their face, but never gave in. I was sixteen. Daryl was right. I was a kid._

_ I lifted a bale of hay from the ground, my strengthening arms flexing heavily as I carried it to the stable, and sat it down. I ran the back of my gloved hand across my forehead and sighed. The hundred-degree weather didn't help my loathing for work clothes, as the sun beat down on my back. Like glue, the sweat caused my plaid shirt to stick to my back, and my hair to glue itself down to my neck and forehead. I was a hard worker, but this was ridiculous._

_ I sighed, and took a seat atop the bale of hay. Four hours in; I deserved a break. I deserved a moment to be miserable, and flawed; stupid and facetious, because that's who I was. I was the miserable hipster. I was the smart and quick-witted girl who would always be alone, because she pushed people away._

_ Taking my gloves off, I slammed them to the ground, kicking up a little dust with them. How was it that he was able to get in my head with a single statement? Telling me that I was a kid. Telling me that I was following him, simply for the idea of some unspoken craving for attention, had pushed me to this. It had pushed me to the point of obsession. I was obsessing over the fact that he walked…away. He turned his back, and he walked away from me. No one ever told me 'no'. No one ever told me that 'I can't'. I could honestly count on one hand the amount of times that someone had walked away and simply thrown the idea of me to the curb, without glancing over their shoulder once._

_ Daryl Dixon was under my skin._

_ Scrunching up my nose, I began shoving at the idea. I pushed, mentally, until my feet began to slide. The thoughts wouldn't budge. Instead, they began pushing back, overwhelming my senses with ideas and scenarios; ways to get the Dixons to stay. I physically shook my head, trying to jar the ideas into something else; something that made sense. Sure, I could get them to stay, but at what cost? He had admitted it, in the woods. He couldn't keep his eyes off of me, or his mind. He was just as infatuated with the sight of me, as I was to he. _

_ So, what was there? There was the thought process of what if. What if I rode a horse across that field and begged? Would I look even worse? Would he flee faster? What if he stayed? Would he be able to do work, with me around? Would I be shut into the house even more?_

_ Who knew? I could try, and feel good, or I could not try, and be safe._

_ That's where you have to ask yourself: What is safe?_

_ Safe is knowing. Safe is having the ability to predict what comes next. Safe is comfort. This…was not safe. Staying here, when my head was somewhere else, was not safe._

_ I stood from the hay and picked up my gloves with a loud sigh. What was this bullshit in my head?! The Dixons made their bed. They moved here. I didn't ask Daryl to watch me. I didn't ask him to be a dirty pervert._

_ I scoffed, before a voice scared me to death._

_ "What's so funny about stackin' hay?", Daryl said from behind me. I whipped around, my hair swinging over my shoulder, and confirmed his presence to myself. He was standing there, looking clean and in good spirits. He wore a pair of torn up jeans, legs stuffed into his work boots. His torso was covered in a tight black t-shirt, and atop his feathery hair was a flat-rimmed hat. Given a beard, he would have looked decidedly Amish. I smirked at the thought, but turned back to my haystack._

_ "What the hell are you doin' here? You don't work for us anymore…", I snapped, quickly sweeping my gloves from the ground. I stomped away, back toward the trailer, while sliding my hands into the leather. I could have groaned. I didn't want to be this way. I didn't want to be mean, and have a voice full of false hatred. What was worse was the scuffling of his lazy footsteps behind me; following my own. I placed a boot against the frame of the trailer, and hooked my hands under the ropes of another bale. I gave it a heavy tug, and it rolled (as well as a rectangle could) off of the trailer, and fell to Daryl's feet._

_ "I came to stack this hay…", he mumbled, reaching down. He picked the hay bale up with a grunt, and nodded toward the barn. I rolled my eyes, and started walking. What was this, some sort of botched apology for leaving me stranded in the woods after his hissy fit? Well, it wasn't going to work. I didn't want his damn apology. But I did. I did want it. I wanted him to come crawling back, and admit that kid or not, I drove him crazy._

_ As we reached the barn, he sat the bale against the wall with the other one and turned to me. We exchanged a glance, before he brought a hand up to his mouth and chewed on his thumb._

_ "What?", I asked, crossing my arms._

_ "I didn't wanna go to yer dad…"_

_ "No.", I stopped him, shifting to my other foot._

_ "What?"_

_ "I don't want you to work here.", I said sternly._

_ "Alrigh'. Good day to ya, then…", he replied, wiping his hands on his jeans. As he turned and began stomping back toward the fence, I heard him mutter, 'Good lord.'_

_ "Wait…", I sighed, closing my eyes tightly. I didn't plan to stack any more of this damn hay. The bales weighed at least half of my body weight, and it was a million degrees out here, "You can come back under conditions."_

_ "I'm the one who quit, remember?"_

_ "Then, go. You're the one who came crawlin' back…remember?", I snapped, turning to return to the trailer. This time, I didn't hear the footsteps. I didn't feel the awkward air following me, because he didn't follow me. He turned, and he disappeared around the edge of the barn. The familiar gnawing began again, causing my stomach to knot and twist into something awful. I crossed my arms, and my shoulders rose to try and take some of the pressure off of my chest. _

_ Yep. That was me. The girl who pushed everyone away…_

_ I tugged at another bale, and as it fell to the ground, so did I. Great. Teenage angst at its finest. It wasn't my style, but right then, it felt right. I lay back in the grass, staring directly into the sun. It burned something awful against my retinas, causing my body to squint both eyes. I fought against it, holding them as still as I could. As they quivered, and the consequential tears fell, the voice met my ears again, and I let out a loud sigh._

_ "You really throw fits. You do this every time you don't get yer way?", Daryl mused from a ways away. I squinted, blinking my burning eyes back into focus, and noticed that he was speaking down on me, from atop a huge horse. I scooted myself to sit up and then stand. I brushed my ass off, and stared at the horse. It was gigantic, and black, and looked as if it was wearing the most magnificent pair of fur boots imaginable. I would have smiled, if not for the teenage angst raging in my bones._

_ "Shut the hell up…", I mumbled, which elicited a smirk from Daryl. Real nice. He was real good at giving looks. He was real good at pushing buttons. If he wasn't seven feet above me…_

_ "You want me to toss that hay or not? I ain't got all day to play games…"_

_ Play games…_

_ That was a real manly way of throwing everything in my face._

_ I balled my fists, bit the inside of my cheeks and tried my hardest to tell him no. I tried my hardest to tell him that it wasn't a good idea for him to be around, because honestly…I couldn't deal with the constant reminder. He was old, and he was mysterious. He was every thought in my brain, because my brain liked puzzles. My brain liked complex problems, and my brain wanted to crack Daryl Dixon open, like a book to read._

_ "Fine. Get to it…", I said, finally, tugging my gloves off. As I did so, Daryl slid down the side of the monster, hitting the ground with a pat to the horse's cheek, "What's up with gigantron?"_

_ "Don't mind him. He's a big baby…", he answered, running a hand down the side of the horse's face. I scoffed, taking a step toward the horse. The second I reached my hand up, a massive set of teeth clamped down on my wrist, causing me to shriek. Daryl grabbed the horse's mouth, and pried it open, scowling heavily at the beast, "Dammit, Riot!"_

_ "Riot? What the hell kind of name is that for a horse…God dammit…", I murmured, shaking my arm violently._

_ "He's my best friend. Had 'im since he was a little bitty thing…", Daryl explained, and my eyes softened. You can judge a man's character by a few things. One of those things is how they treat animals, and how animals react around them. I couldn't help but smile, as he cooed Riot, giving him a few kisses on the nose, "I'll tie him up over by the stable…won't bother ya."_

_ "No…", I mumbled, "He's fine. Put him in the pasture…"_

_ He stared at me for a few seconds, looking my entire face over, before pulling the bridle back over Riot's head, and slapping his rear. The horse took off, playing and rearing in the tall grass. We stood and watched, both smiling at the majesty, and our shoulders brushing. As his elbow brushed mine, I was jarred from my gaze and I cleared my throat, handing him my gloves, "Get to work."_

* * *

I coughed a bit at the smell that erupted, the second we opened the stairwell door. There were dead bodies strewn all down the stairs, lying every which way, and I instantly felt the urge to vomit. It would never be commonplace. I would never get used to the smell of decaying human flesh.

I turned to Carol, and waved my hand, silently gesturing to her that Sophia needed to be contained, away from the door. With a nod, she covered her eyes, and walked her over to a nearby wall, sliding her into a sitting position. Satisfied that she was safe, I grabbed the handles of one of the large hospital beds and attempted to pull it back toward the door. The motion was hard on my still achy muscles, but the strain didn't last long. T-dog grabbed the other side, and gasped out a set of numbers. At '3', we moved the bed, pulling it through the door. Andrea held the door open, as best she could, and Dale stood, waiting for anything we brought back. When we were safely inside, he and Andrea slammed the doors shut, while Glenn and T-dog barricaded them. I let out a ragged sigh, as Glenn's arm snaked around my waist for support. This was our life. Recovery happened whenever we could sit still, which was almost never. I would have to get over it, and move forward. So, I stood straight and patted him on the shoulder.

Not convinced, he rolled his eyes, and went to help the others with more barriers. I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye, and shot my face toward it, in time to see a Walker shuffle past the window. Everyone ducked, and I immediately looked to Sophia, who was welling up for another sob. I motioned to Carl, holding my hand out in a way that told him to control her. Luckily, I was a little better with children, than Daryl. I knew how their minds worked, at my age, enough to set them at ease. Carl grasped her hand, as the Walker shuffled down the hallway. I smiled, releasing a relieved sigh, and turned my attention back to T-dog and Glenn, who were now standing.

"C'mon…let's go, now…", T-dog whispered, and the group began standing from the ground, to make their way down the hall. I stood, with some effort, and was quickly grabbed around the waist by Glenn, as he ran along side of me. I reminded myself to thank him, if we survived this.

The hallway seemed to get longer and longer the further we ran. I could only assume that we were getting close to where the guys were. We had to at least be getting close to a room that was safe for the time being. As if called, Daryl flung himself around the doorway of the cafeteria, crossbow pointed at the group. He quickly lowered it, waving for us all to follow him into the room.

* * *

Daryl scoped out the rooms, one by one. Death was everywhere, and lingered in the air. He wondered how long it would be before the people of the group began to go insane. They had already seen so much. Shan…She had been through so much. It was a new world. The humans were no longer one species, and they were no longer civil. He would mention that little nugget of information to Rick, when the time was right.

These people were all executed. They were shot in the head, like rabid dogs.

"We need to regroup, and we need to decide what to do. The upstairs will be safe for the night. We'll raid the kitchen and the first aid…surely there's something.", Rick explained, and Daryl chewed the skin from his lip, and nodded.

"Tomorrow we can move, decide our next move.", Daryl agreed.

"Go and find them. We'll gather here, regroup, and then move upstairs.", Rick continued, ordering Daryl like a father. Daryl nodded again, pulling his crossbow around. He loaded a bolt onto the string, and whipped around the corner, face to face with T-dog.

Gasping, and removing his shaky finger from the trigger, Daryl leaned a bit against the wall, "Rick wants to talk to everybody…"

* * *

"We'll be safe upstairs. We've cleared the rooms, and we'll barricade what we need to. We'll be fine.", Rick said, and I raised a hand to my forehead in a mixture of stress and relief. I didn't want to stay here, but we didn't have much of an option.

I heard the faint sound of Carol rattling off to Rick, but I didn't bother with it. Her pessimism would end up getting her killed. However, when Glenn spoke up, I turned my head to him, playing with the small feather of hair that peeked through the hole in his cap.

"What the hell happened here?", Glenn asked, and my face fell a bit, looking around at the rest of the group. Something about the look on Daryl's face caught my attention, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He had seen something.

"It's obvious…They were overrun.", Andrea answered, and Daryl scoffed. Here we go…, "You got something to say?"

"Yeah. How about observant?"

"That's a big word coming from someone like you. Three whole syllables.", Andrea retorted, and I tensed. No one called Daryl stupid. It was the one…rule with him. Don't. Call. Daryl. Stupid.

"Walkers didn't do this. The geeks didn't show up 'til all this went down.", Daryl explained, and I leaned my head against Glenn's, listening to his explanation. Glenn didn't seem to be doing so hot, "Someone attacked this place. Came and took whatever they wanted. Look at all these people…shot in the head – execution style. Yer all worried about Walkers? I'd be much more worried about whoever did all this…"

I glanced to Rick, as Daryl finished. He was kneeling over a corpse, looking it over. He seemed impressed, and I smirked. You don't call Daryl Dixon stupid…

"Get a dictionary. Look it up…observant.", Daryl said quickly, before storming to the door. I glared at Andrea, who had the audacity to look to me for answers. Without a word of explanation, I kissed Glenn's temple, and stood, following Daryl into the hallway.

"Daryl. Wait up.", I called out in a loud whisper. He stopped his stride, and turned, raising an eyebrow at me. I didn't want anything. I just didn't want him running off, "You shouldn't run off…"

"I'll be fine. Go back and have the little pow-wow with the rest of them idiots. I don't need 'em.", he said, waving a hand at my face. I flinched, but stood still, crossing my arms.

"I don't think…you should go off…"

"I said git!", he almost yelled, getting in my face. I closed my eyes, until I felt his breath release against my nose. Opening them, I scanned his, and whispered a simple, 'no'. His entire body became rigid with annoyance. His fists clenched at his sides, like he wanted to knock my face off. I knew better. I knew _him_ better, "What do you want from me? I try to do what's right, what's best for all these people. They don't care bout me! Alls they care about is them kids, and the women. I'm just another man who goes down protectin' what? The future? There is no future…"

"I want you to talk to me, like this. I want you to be okay. Those people in there might be 'idiots', but they need you. They need a leader, in case something happens to Rick. They sure as hell don't want to turn to Shane. Do you want them to turn to Shane?"

"I don't want that on me!", he yelled, once again brushing his nose against mine, "I'm goin'. You either come with…or…or you stay here as Walker bait."

"So, that's it? Someone calls you stupid…and you leave? Everything that you know is here. This is it. Merle is gone. My parents are dead…", I started, noticing the way he winced at the word 'dead', "Yeah. They got shot down in the purge…"

"How'd you git away?", he asked, his voice changing to a whisper. He didn't back off of me, but his face softened. This was what pity looked like on the face of Daryl Dixon.

"Jumped from a window…shot a guy…", I explained. A smirk started to appear across his lips, as if he was proud of me. He just didn't want to admit it, "I took Riot, and headed into the city…but got cut off."

"Where'd you leave him…", Daryl asked, crossing his arms in the uncomfortable silence. I closed my eyes, and let a single tear fall, before looking off to the side. I didn't have to explain. Daryl scoffed, running a hand through his hair. Surely he figured the horses had been killed, or eaten, but I had killed Riot. I had.

"I'm so sorry, Dare…", I said softly, bringing my hand up to his chin. I ran my thumb across his lower lip, "Just don't go. Give it one more night. If you wake up tomorrow…and you wanna go, I'll go with you."

The look that spread across his face spelled out the hope that I had been looking for. He didn't want to leave. He just wanted to hear someone say that they cared enough to follow him in to a death trap. He wanted to know that there was still a soul in the world that would follow him…

"I can do that…", he whispered, slinging his crossbow around to his back. A hand came up, and cupped my cheek, his long fingers wrapping around the back of my ear, and like old times, he placed a single kiss on my forehead, one on my nose, and a soft brush across my lips. Taking in a breath, I let a couple of tears fall.

Shan: 1 - Daryl's stubbornness: 0

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**I love how this ended, and I'm the writer :) I hope the flashback gave you a bit of insight into Shan/Daryl's background together. Trust me, you'll love the rest of their story. It will make all the little quirks make sense. REVIEW!**


	14. Chapter 14: Square 1 - Part 2

**Author's Note: I don't really have a lot to say about this chapter. Those of you who like my writing will enjoy it. The rest of you, I hope like it, as well, but it moves a bit slower than other chapters. I love you all. I really want your opinions and your ideas. So, review with them. I take all of them to heart, and I appreciate each and every follower. *kisses to all of you***

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Chapter 14: Square 1 – Part 2

_June slugged by, a bit sweatier than I ever remembered it and miserable. I stayed locked in my room most days of the week, and the days that I wasn't locked away, I was down at the lake, doing what I could to stay in shape. I could swim. I could swim quite well, and it was the only exercise my chiseled body ever saw. I was asked every day about it at school, and received scoffs in return for my answer. I figured they were just jealous of my free time, away from a gym._

_ As July approached, the grass grew a bit taller, the sunburns became a bit easier to obtain, and the thermometer skyrocketed above 100 degrees. I slowly began to emerge from my room, a bit more every day. My mother, being the obsessive saint she was, made sure to shove her world class southern cooking in my face; while forcing me onto a scale. She had noticed the ridges of my spine and the dips of my collarbone, and had it in her mind that I had become an anorexic. I guess you could call it that. I hadn't eaten more than crumbs in weeks. I came down for oranges, a handful of grapes; cooked food was a completely faded memory._

_ "You should pick up a hobby…", she said, one morning, as I shoved the bacon and eggs back at her. I poured a glass of water, downed it, and grabbed an orange._

_ "I have a hobby.", I replied, and she rolled her eyes, with a loud sigh._

_ "What? Swimming in that nasty lake? That's not a hobby…that's an obsession…"_

_ I shrugged my shoulders, glancing out the window. Daryl stood by the old tractor, a cigarette pressed between his lips. He was sweaty, and his face was covered in a thick layer of ash and dirt. I almost smirked. We hadn't spoken in weeks. I had passed him once, on my way to the stables, but he didn't speak, and I couldn't be bothered. Where did it all come from, you ask?_

_ I had an epiphany, while watching Daryl leave, the last time we had spoken. He was temporary. His life was temporary, the same as my parents'. I made the decision to break away from the temporary things, like my horses, like my parents, like Daryl. They would die. They would die, or would leave. In Daryl's case, I would leave, in a year. I would be gone, off to school in another big city. There was no sense in getting into a big crush…_

_ So, I pushed him out of my mind._

_ False._

_ Every time I stepped foot into the water, his face flooded my thoughts. His words took over my senses, and I was swimming away. I swam away from the world that I had created around us. This fantasy world was unhealthy, but at the same time, it was comfortable. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to just sink down, and let his mystery wash over me, until I broke him free of it, but as good as it sounded, it could never happen._

_ "Shanelle Eva Berry!", my mom yelled from beside me. I jumped, dropping my glass to the sink with a loud 'crash'. As my eyes focused, I noticed that Daryl was staring back. The cigarette was almost down to nothing, and he snubbed it on the ancient fender of the tractor, giving me a polite nod. I scoffed at the gesture, and turned back to my mom._

_ "I'm going for a swim…", I said, finally, watching her face contort in pity and worry. Who knew she could convey so many emotions in a couple of seconds? I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine…", and with that, I turned and flung myself through the screen door._

_ "Well…", I heard my mom say behind me, reaching a hand out, "Happy…Birthday…"_

_ I passed Riot, on the way to get my horse. He huffed as I passed, and went back to his hay. I picked up my pace, jogging to my horse, who was already saddled and tied in the fence. I quickly flung myself onto his back, and kicked his sides with urgency. He took off in a gallop, racing to the tree line. The wind almost took my breath away, and I lowered myself to his neck, avoiding the tree limbs that flashed past my face. This was almost the best thing about my times away from the house. The thrill of my horse bobbing and weaving through the thick tree coverage was much like a rollercoaster, and it was much needed exhilaration. If not for it, I feared that the woods would remind me of the one thing I was trying to get away from…_

_ "Whoa, baby…", I cooed to him, slowing him down along the bank of the deep lake. The water seemed a bit clearer today, as dry weather settled the mud to the bottom. For that, I was grateful. I climbed down from my horse's back and slipped my feet from my boots. As I worked the buttons of my shirt loose, I heard a crack of sticks, and I turned. I stood still for a few seconds, waiting for a second noise. Unsatisfied, I pulled the shirt off, revealing my bikini top. Its white fabric was stained a greyish brown from the muddy lake, but it was already ruined – why not wear it? I shed my cut off jeans, and slowly walked the length of the slippery dock. _

_ The woods were silent, with only the chirping and fluttering of birds flooding my ears. Closing my eyes, I took in the silence, before diving into the water._

* * *

_Daryl snubbed his cigarette out, watching the ashes fall to the dry dust below. As he looked back to Shan, he noticed the look in her eyes. She was in so much pain. He figured it was a teenager thing. Teenage girls, if he remembered right, tended to be pretty miserable. This, though…This look. It wasn't the look of pitiful hormones. It was the look of someone who had had the metaphorical rug ripped from under their feet. It was the look of someone who had been crushed, by another someone. Daryl nodded to her, a silent 'hello', and watched her storm off._

_ He had his answer as to whom._

_ He stood still, staring at the window. Mrs. Berry gave him a small wave, her face worried. Her eyes were scared. That told him everything he needed to know. Shan was dealing with demons that were harming her…_

_ Daryl nodded to Mrs. Berry, silently letting her know that he would take care of it, and he removed his gloves. _

_ "Riot! C'mere…", he called out, climbing over the steel fence. Balancing on the top, he jumped onto Riot's back as he passed, and they took off toward the woods. For Riot, this ride was a little more difficult than it was for Shan's quarter horse. Riot was a full-blooded Percheron, and stood over six feet at his shoulders. So, the bobbing and weaving ended up with Daryl laying across the giant's back, until the ground began softening, and the trees began to part, opening to the large lake. Daryl leaned up, and pulled back on the reigns, "Whoa, now…"_

_ He had to stand still for a few seconds, after sliding down Riot's side. Shan was lying in the middle of the lake face up. She was floating, carelessly, and if he had any less common sense, he would have panicked. He let out the breath he was holding, and took a step out onto the dock, still watching her lack of movement._

_ "You practicin' for somethin'?", he called out to her. Her entire body tensed, and she went under the surface of the water, before her head popped up and she scowled at him. This was her private place, and he was invading it. This…he knew._

_ "Did my momma send you out here?", she called back to him, and he smirked, squatting to take a seat on the sticky wood._

_ "Nope. No, I came on my own."_

_ "Why did you follow me?", she asked, and Daryl shrugged, straightening his hat. He looked at the water, as it cast bright light across his face._

_ "Nobody should be alone on their birthday…"_

_ I narrowed my eyes at him, spitting a bit of the muddy water as I did so. I didn't believe him for a second. We hadn't spoken in almost a month, and suddenly he remembered my birthday? Suddenly he KNEW my birthday?!_

_ "I never told you my birthday."_

_ "You never told me much of anything. I heard yer momma back there. Yer breakin' her heart, kid…", he said softly, before realizing the word he had used. My stomach fell, crashing somewhere around my feet. So, that's what he still thought of me. A year older, and he still called me a kid, "I didn't mean no offense by that. It's a habit."_

_ "So, what? You're my birthday present?", I asked him, and he sniggered a bit, looking down at his fidgeting hands, "Not much of one, if you ask me."_

_ "Is that right?"_

_ I swam to the dock, throwing my arms over the side and pulled myself up. Daryl watched, much to my amusement, not offering so much as a hand to me. Once safely aboard, I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it into a loose and disgusting ponytail on the back of my head. Being there, next to him, I felt sick. I felt as if I was going to throw my guts up, just at the sight of his face. His sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and the way that stupid hat sat over it…It made me sick._

_ "Yer mom's worried about ya.", he repeated, and my stomach lurched again. I grabbed it, leaning forward a bit. The same achy pain wrenched my stomach one way and the next, causing immense pain, and a worried look to spread across Daryl's face, "You alright? I mean…You look…sick or sump'n."_

_ "Fine. I'm fine. So, besides getting in the middle of my family drama, what are you here for?", I asked, and he went into a deep concentration, bringing his hand up to chew the skin from his thumb._

_ "I guess I'm worried bout ya, too.", he said softly, his eyes finding mine from under the rim of his hat. I stared, watching both his eyes with my own narrowed heavily. He was worried. He cared…_

_ Leaning forward, I attempted to place a kiss against his lips, and was diverted to his cheek, instead. _

_Denied._

_Pulling away, I stayed close, as his eyes rose from my chin, to meet mine. I felt dirty. I felt like the little girl, who wanted something she couldn't have. I felt irrational, and…and gross. I moved, ready to stand and run away. I was ready to let him go…again._

_"Hey. Ain't nobody chasin' you away…", Daryl said, which caused my heart to jump, "I just can't…do that."_

_"That? Kissin' me? If I remember, you're the one who did it first."_

_"And I'm sorry for that. I was wrong…Now..You gonna ruin yer birthday by cryin' it away, or do you want yer present?", he asked, quickly changing the subject. No. I didn't want the present. I wanted to crack him. I wanted to break him down. _

_"You got me a present?"_

_"No. Just somethin' I think will make you smile a bit.", he mumbled, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a pile of things. He picked up my hand, dropping the three things into it, and then closed it tightly, "Don't make fun of me…"_

_I smirked, opening my hand. Lying in my palm was a penny, an arrowhead (carved from stone), and what looked like a tiny daisy. The daisy was dried up, but was still beautiful; a shade of pink. It was great. _

_"Wow…"_

_"Yeah…I didn't know that today was…", he stammered, and I shook my head, frowning._

_"No. No…it's great. This is…great.", I said softly._

_"When I was little…me and Merle would make stuff out of old crap we found lyin' around the yard. We'd show the kids in the neighborhood and tell 'em it was treasure, like we'd found it on the Indian mounds. We'd make necklaces, and stuff, and we'd talk kids outa their lunch money. I still pick the stuff up…", he explained, and I smiled. Any thoughts I had were gone. I didn't need Daryl to be 'with' me. I just needed him. I needed to hear these stories. I needed to be there for him, the way he had never had anyone before. Closing my hand again, I surprised him with a wide smile._

_"Best birthday present, ever…", I said softly, and that was our afternoon. Some of it was spent in silence. Some of it was spent telling stories of my past, or of Merle's troubles. _

_Up to that point, it was the most I had ever enjoyed a birthday; just me, Daryl, and the thousands of Georgia mosquitos._

* * *

As I turned to re-enter the room, Rick exited, "We're moving all our stuff upstairs. Me and Shane are gonna go look for food and medicine. Daryl, you see if there's a room big enough for us all to stretch out. I think we found a nursery, earlier."

Daryl nodded, "Yeah. It's pretty huge. We can burrow down for the night, block the stairs…"

Rick shared his nod, and then looked to me, "You alright?"

I nodded, and felt his hand squeeze my elbow tightly, before he turned and trudged down the hall. As Daryl brushed by me, I made sure to whisper, "Stay safe.", quietly. All I received in return was a slap to the elbow.

* * *

Later that night, the hospital was plunged into darkness. As I sat in the small nursery, huddled with Glenn, I began to wonder if Rick and Daryl were okay. They had been gone a couple of hours, and had originally planned twenty minutes. I leaned my head in and drew close to Glenn's ear, "They should be back. Should one of us go look for them?"

He shook his head, and leaned it against mine. Something about him was a little different tonight. His normal bubbly personality had changed. He was quiet, and shunned the rest of the group away. If not for my loner state, he would probably be huddled in a corner alone. I nodded in understanding, deciding to let this one go to faith; in both Daryl and Rick. Instead of leaving, I snaked my hand into the crevice between Glenn's thigh and calf (as he was sitting Indian style), and held onto him. I gave support where I knew it was needed.

* * *

As Daryl and Rick made their way back to the nursery, Daryl felt the overwhelming ache of hunger rise up in his belly. It had only been a day, since they had eaten their last meal, but a day was enough. He looked through the small bag of supplies Rick had managed to find, and pulled out one can of food. One can, to feed eleven people.

Great.

Keeping his head up, he followed Rick into the nursery; internally sighing at the relieved looks they received. They wouldn't be so relieved after finding out there was no food. He glanced around the room, taking in the faces of survival. This was what Shan wanted him to fight for. Then, there was Shan. She was all cuddly and warm with Glenn in a corner. Sure, the kid had saved her life, but…

"This is all that was left…", Rick explained, signaling to Daryl, as he threw a box of cough drops to Lori. Daryl held up the can, and read it, scoffing.

"We came back for cough drops and…Garbanzo beans.", he mused, tossing the can of beans to Glenn. He slowly sunk to the ground, on the other side of Shan, and raised a hand to touch the bruise on the side of her face. It was beginning to heal, and turn brown; much to his satisfaction. He was ready to at least be able to enjoy looking at her again. Even with their slow-going relationship, he had always loved those eyes. He had always loved the freckles that covered her cheeks, and the flawless bronze of the skin there. Right now, that skin was a sickly pale gray, and the freckles were faded into the rest of the bruises, there. Her eyes were open, but were still bloodshot, and hard to enjoy, for the rage it caused him. At this point, seeing her face made him want to throw someone in front of a train. The thought forced a smirk onto his face, as Glenn rationed the beans on to a few paper plates.

"What?", Shan asked him, a small smirk playing at her own lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled around her. It had to have been months ago. Instead of explaining, however, he shook his head.

"Nothin'.", he murmured, watching Shane's movements. He had pulled out a bottle of wine, and was holding it up like a prize. Daryl's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the thought of alcohol. He picked a few beans from his plate, tossed them into his mouth, and then pointed to the bottle in Shane's hand, "That to share?"

"Well, seeing as I owe you my life, I guess I'll be nice to you from now on.", Shane answered, smiling thankfully, while handing the bottle over. Daryl snatched the bottle, eagerly, from his hand and began opening it with the can opener.

"I do think I deserve the first swallow."

"Dare…No getting wasted. Not here…", Shan spoke up as Daryl managed to pop the cork. He rose the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.

"Yeah…Let's not forget where we are.", Lori finished for Shan. Daryl's face softened with a nod.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

I was taken aback by the words, 'Yes ma'am.', slipping from Daryl's mouth. Here we were, in the worst place yet, and he felt the need to be polite to a woman he had no care in the world for, an hour ago. This was him trying for me. This was his humanity, peeking through all the blood and dirt; and showing itself for what he really was. I smiled a bit, and opened my bag of chips.

"Here. I'll trade you.", Daryl spoke up. I turned to him, shaking my head, "No, seriously. I'll trade you. You always were the junk food lover…never cared much for beans."

I hesitated, staring down at the disgusting pile of beans. It was true. I hated them. I would eat a lot of things, before canned beans. I sighed, and slid my plate to him. His bag of chips slid to a halt in front of my feet.

I wouldn't go hungry, tonight.

"What do we do, next?", Lori asked, and I didn't look up. I picked through the greasy chips and simply listened.

"Fort Benning? It's our best hope, I guess."

"Fort Benning, then.", Lori responded, and the sigh that left Rick's mouth echoed a warning. He was feeling guilty…

"Shane, man. I'm sorry. If we had of gone there in the first place…we would have saved ourselves a lot of grief. Maybe Jacqui would still be alive."

With that, my stomach lurched, and I felt sick. I brought the back of my hand up to my lips, and sat the bag of chips down.

Jacqui.

Her name would haunt me for a long time. I had known her for all of a week. In that week, she was the face of truth for me. She was the sweet hand that I needed to get me back to life, to make me want to continue living. Now, that carpet had been ripped from under my feet.

"Her choice…" – the words that echoed over and over. I should have taken that choice from her, like Dale did from Andrea. You don't get to make those sorts of decisions for yourself! You leave others behind. It's painful, and selfish…

"You okay? You gonna hurl?", Daryl asked, leaning down to pick up the half eaten bag of chips. His movements were timid, like an abused dog asking for food. Seeing that I could care less, he finished the bag off, and rested his forearm against my leg, "For real…if you need to hurl.."

"I'mfineDaryljustshutup…", I rattled off, finding it difficult not to vomit the second my mouth opened. So, I spoke through my teeth instead.

"What kind of person would do something like this? What kind of person…would come in, and murder all these old people?", Glenn asked, and that was it for me. I stood, and ran from the room. I hit the stairs and stumbled my way down them, leaning over the rail and emptied the contents of my stomach into the darkness below. As I coughed, I could hear the shuffling of footsteps behind me. My hand came up, and I waved whoever it was off of me.

"I'm fine. Just…leave me…a-"

"That would be breakin' a promise…", Daryl spoke up. He took a seat on the stairs, watching me like a hawk, "What happened at the CDC…"

"I don't wanna talk about it. Jacqui…she…", I stopped, fighting off another wave of nausea.

"She was a good woman. Just didn't have it in 'er to make it another day. Whatever it is that makes you think that's on you…you need to bury that.", Daryl whispered, taking a drink of wine, "Ain't nothin' wrong with grievin', but the difference between you and Jacqui…is me. I ain't chasin' you away, and I ain't lettin' you go down that road…"

I closed my eyes, wiping the tears from under them, and turned to him. He was right. I could keep on this mission of self-destruction. I could beat myself up, twist the story to make it sound like there was ANYTHING I could do, but it wouldn't bring her back. It wouldn't make up for the fact that she was dead, and I couldn't save her. I killed my way out of a prison, but I couldn't save Jacqui from herself.

"Where're we sleepin'?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I'm sleepin' right here. Bird's eye view of the entrance…Don't wanna be caged.", he explained, and I nodded.

"Fine. Me too."

"Wha'?"

"I ain't sleepin' alone.", I explained, taking a seat against the steel railing. I lay back, and then rolled onto my side. I don't know when he decided to lie down and rest, but my restless sleep came on like a freight train, along with the most painful nightmares known to man.

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**This wraps up the deleted scene, and plunges us into the first episode of Season 2. I'm so excited! I have a job interview in the morning, and then I will try to flesh out some ideas and have a chapter up ASAP. Review and tell me what you think!**


	15. Chapter 15: Conscience

**A/N: I am so so so sorry. I just thought you guys should know that I didn't mean to let the story go this long without an update. Between the job interviews and school starting, it slipped by me. But here is the first of a few really good updates for you guys. I have to address a few questions from anons on Tumblr about my decisions, and then you can enjoy the story. :) If you have problems, feel free to review. That's what the review section is for.**

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**Anon: Why would you make Daryl a pedo?**

**-Me: I don't believe I made him a pedo. He made a mistake, a lapse of judgement, and he backed off. I don't consider that **

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**Anon: Daryl is too OOC for me. He's too nice, even to his 'girlfriend'.**

**-Me: Well, that's the point, for me. This is my interpretation of the tv show, with my character added in. Daryl's not going to act the same toward someone he already knows. We've seen that with himself and Merle. I mean, look at him crying and everything in front of Merle in Woodbury. I don't feel that he's too OOC. I think he's just enough OOC for him to be realistic. He's in love with her. She's in love with him. He knows where they stand, and he's going to at least show affection in his way. We've not seen this type of affection in the show. So, there's no way to know how he would react. xx**

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**Anon: I love the story, but I feel like your character is written a bit unrealistic as a hick.**

**-Me: Actually, I write her the way I talk/act. I'm from Arkansas. I live on a farm half the time, and in the middle of suburban hell the other half of the time. I'm in my element half the time, and away from my element the other half. I have a thick accent, and if I was on television, there would probably be subtitles. If she's written unrealistically, it's not because I'm meaning to. Not to be rude, but maybe you watch too much television. Most actors accents are not real. They are the ones who are unrealistic. (No animosity directed toward you. Just my opinion.) xx**

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Chapter 15: Conscience

_"Yer gonna set the damn lawn on fire!", Daryl called out, as a flaming ball bounced off his leg, and put itself out in the dirt. My daddy cackled, leaned back in his lawn chair, just watching the show. Honestly, I hated the fourth of July. I hated the idea of all the fire. Daryl, however, loved it. He and Merle shot off a paycheck's worth of fireworks every year, as a tradition, and this year, my dad bought the whole holiday. We had everything from Roman candles, to bottle rockets, to giant barrels of artillery to shoot off. _

_ I preferred shooting Roman candles at Daryl._

_ "Aw! Come on Daryl! Shoot 'er back!", my dad howled, tossing a new Roman candle at Daryl's feet. He swiped it, running away from me with a giggle. As my own mini canon ran out of ammo, I let out a shriek, running for the steps of the house, and felt myself quickly swept off my feet._

_ "No! Merle!", I screamed, beating Merle's back as he carried me back to the line of fire. Daryl lit his roman candle, and aimed it toward us._

_ "Whoa, son! Lemme get out the way first, shit!", Merle exclaimed, throwing me to the ground, with his hands in the air for defense. The fireball bounced off the ground, straight up between our bodies, and another one shot out, bouncing off my neck._

_ That was gonna blister. _

_ I ignored the burning, and ran back to my daddy, grabbing something else for ammo. This dangerous game was the redneck way. I had just never had anyone to play it with. Honestly, it was exhilarating. The idea of being injured made everything more exciting. _

_ "Give me one!"_

_ "No no no…", my daddy laughed at me, kicking the bag of explosives under his chair. A flaming ball whizzed past our heads, and I ducked behind the chair, grabbing a bottle rocket from the ground. I had no idea how to use these things. The roman candles were fool proof. You lit them, held them in a direction, and they shot flames. Rockets sounded decidedly more dangerous._

_ I lit one up, and held it toward Daryl, smirking at the ideas flying through my head._

_ "THROW IT!", I heard ring out from all directions around me, as the rocket made a screech and exploded against my hand. In shock, I pulled the scorched hand to my chest and let out a whimper._

_ "Shit!", Daryl yelled out, and my daddy stood from his chair. I could tell from the way he held his arm across his face that he was holding in a laugh. So glad I could provide the day's entertainment! Assholes…_

_ "Lemme see it…", Merle's hoarse voice cooed to me, and I shook my head violently, pressing the hand against my shirt, "Lemme see it, dammit!"_

_ He wrenched my arm out, placing it in a sort of arm bar, and began forcing my fingers apart to check the palm for blisters. I hissed, and Merle's face melted into a pout. He dropped the hand and took off toward my daddy's lawn chair. He grabbed the cup from the cupholder and dipped two fingers in, fishing out a piece of ice._

_ "You alright?", Daryl asked as I sat back on my bottom. I crossed my legs and placed my bloody and blistered hand in my lap._

_ " 's yer fault…", I murmured, letting my hair fall like a curtain in front of my eyes._

_ "An' how's that?"_

_ "You…You were shooting me with the candles! How's I 'sposed to know that those…rocket things would blow up if you didn't throw them?!", I whined as Merle roughly grabbed my wrist and thrust a piece of ice into the palm of my hand. I hissed at the sudden cold, but the relief that took over caused my shoulders to fall._

_ "Yer momma's goin' after some ointment. Can tell yer sheltered…", Merle chimed, giggling as my arm swung around to take out his legs. He stumbled backward, avoiding the swipe, and kept giggling as my dad handed him another beer._

_ "You'll live. If that's the worst you see in yer life…yer doin' good…", Daryl spoke up. His voice was truthful, but it reminded me of some old man who'd seen a lot in his day. Honestly? He sounded like a war veteran, giving advice to a teenager. The fun was gone for me, right then. The thoughts of his dad beating he and Merle half to death reverberated through my head so fast that I almost puked._

_ "Don't say that to me…", I whispered, looking down. I wiped my hand along my jeans, smearing a bit of blood with it, and stood up._

_ "I didn't mean nothin' by it. Tryin' to make you feel better's all…"_

_ "Well don't. I get what you mean. I'm set up for life. I'll never see the world the way a lot of people are forced to. I get that…but don't…", I said, turning to walk back to my lawn chair. Merle cracked open a bottle and raised an eyebrow to my dad, who shrugged his shoulders in a manner that said, 'What the hell? It's a holiday'. The bottle was thrust at my chest with a smile._

_ "Now. Everyone is done tryin' to kill themselves…it's time for the show…", Merle mused with a wide smile. He held a grill lighter in his hand like a magic wand as Daryl brought over a box of huge explosives. There was no negative emotion on his face as he sat them down, and rubbed his hands together in excitement, "Sit back…grab a beer, and watch the Dixon HIGHWAY TO HELL!"_

_ I couldn't help but giggle, as the first ball was lit and dropped into it's barrel; scattering Dixons in all directions as it launched._

_ I hated the fourth of July until I met the Dixons._

* * *

Leaving the hospital was an easy decision, even for me. I didn't want to be back out on the road with all the walkers, but we weren't much safer in the previously attacked building. If the attackers thought twice, they may have come back to see if there was anyone holding up there. We were safer on the road. Daryl was scuffling around, gathering odds and ends from the beds and the rooms when I woke up.

" 's bout time you woke up. You didn't sleep worth a damn last night…all that moanin' and groanin'. What'd you dream about?", he asked as he brought a pile of semi-clean clothes over. He had apparently been raiding drawers, along with cabinets to find them. He tossed the top couple of items at me, and shrugged a small, bloody duffel bag from his shoulder to also throw to my side, "You need stuff…"

"My parents…", I answered his previous question. He stopped his rummaging and stared at me for a second, diverting his eyes to the floor, and then turned to the stairs. At least he didn't ask the details. I sighed as he pointed toward the roof.

"Rick's takin' care of somethin'…callin' his friend. Said we'd be gone when he got back. The others went to move the blocks…", he explained, and I replied with a nod. I took my gun from my waistband, tossing it into the duffel bag, and began going through the clothes. In the pile were two tshirts, a pair of jeans, and a simple black hoodie. Smirking at the idea of having a few extra clothing items, I shoved them inside the duffel and zipped it up, before rising to my feet, "You sure yer ready? You can take a minute..change clothes and stuff…"

"I think I'm good.", I sighed, taking in the clothing he was wearing. It was the same torn flannel shirt he had been sporting since the CDC, but now was covered in something familiar, "Is that…the angel vest?"

"It's Merle's…but yeah. I found it lookin' through the bags. Missed it, di'nt ya?"

"Actually, yeah. Reminds me of…", I stopped before I ended up uttering anything about 'the farm'. Instead of elaborating, I threw the duffel bag over my shoulder and stepped around Daryl.

* * *

We regrouped in the alley, along with all of our vehicles. It was time to mount the damn motorcycle of hell, again, and move on. If it weren't for leaving Daryl alone, I would have asked to ride along with Dale. Though, the thought of leaving Daryl, and of him being taken down alone, haunted me as soon as I began to mention it. So, I shoved the words back down, and slung a leg over the backseat. I pushed the crossbow to the side, and tightly wrapped my arms around Daryl's waist, pressing my cheek against the scratchy stitches of his angel wings.

"Y'all stay safe!", he yelled out to Rick, receiving a nod and a small wave. With that, the motorcycle roared to life, and jutted forward, taking us away to a new life; hopefully.

Not even a mile outside of the city, we came to a massive roadblock. Daryl slowed, and I raised my head to look around at the cars. They were all sitting where they had broken down, the people inside of them dead. There were a few random dead bodies and the bodies of road kill littering the street as well. I fought back the nausea, as Daryl's right hand came down to my thigh. He held it there, and began guiding us through. Shockingly, there were no walkers along the way, as he slowed to a stop.

"We should go back…guide the others through.", he muttered, staring through to the clearing at the end. It would be easy to get straight through, if the RV could venture slow enough to be quiet. We would be out of the city by sundown, if the cards were in our favor. I pressed my chin against his shoulder and nodded, receiving a pleased sigh in return.

We jutted forward again, and began to turn around. Against my mind screaming for me to stop him, I simply hid my face in his back, again.

"You see a way through?", I heard Dale call out to us, and after a short pause, we began turning around again, apparently headed back to the mouth of the traffic jam. I let out a ragged sigh, but felt Daryl's right hand return to my thigh. It gave some comfort, but I was still shaking against the leather of his vest. I felt the bike weave and turn through the traffic, speeding up and slowing down, before a loud explosion almost knocked us over from shock. We both jumped, jolting the bike to the side, before Daryl gained control and stopped us cold.

"Dammit…", he whispered, turning the bike off. He dropped the kickstand, removed his hand from me, and climbed off.

"Dare, what was that?"

"Damn RV broke down…c'mon…", he complained, grabbing one of the empty duffels from around my shoulders. I knew right then what he had in mind. We were going hunting.

"We're not staying here…", I started to protest, standing from the bike, myself. I tightened my grip on own duffels as he turned on me.

"We'll do what we hafta…I'm gonna go see what's up. You just calm yerself down, princess…", he snapped, and my eyes instantly hit the pavement as I nodded and he stalked away.

* * *

Daryl joined the rest of the group, making the first move of going through the trunk of an abandoned car. There were more clothes in this one vehicle than he had seen in years, as well as some other things. He cracked open a first aid kit, pleased to see that it was almost untouched, sans a few Band-Aids. He stuffed it into his duffel, along with some flashlights, and a hammer.

"I've said it a thousand times…", Dale complained as he exited the RV and walked around to look at the busted radiator.

"Got a problem, Dale?", Shane spoke up, sizing Daryl up for a few seconds, before returning to the outspoken senior.

"Yeah. We're in the middle of nowhere, and I got a busted radiator hose. I needed the one from the moving van you guys lost…", Dale answered, turning to Rick, who was fumbling with his rifle. Rick didn't acknowledge it, only continued loading the gun.

"Well…If you can't find car parts in this…somethin's wrong.", Shane told him, glancing to Daryl again.

"There's all kinds of stuff here…", Daryl pointed out, not enjoying Shane's judgmental looks at all.

"This is a graveyard.", Lori complained, and the whole group fell into silence for a few seconds. Daryl looked down to the ground, before crossing his arms.

"And beggars can't be choosers…", he witted, which caused Lori to frown and roll her eyes.

"Daryl's right. Let's just see what we can find here, while Dale fixes the RV. Then, we'll be back on the road.", Rick spoke up for Daryl, as they made eye contact. It was then that Daryl learned to trust Rick Grimes. It was then that he learned the side he was on, and the side he would fight for; die for…

T-dog stepped forward with three gas cans on each hand, causing Daryl to smirk, glancing to Shan. In a perfect world, he would have apologized to her. In this world, she needed a wake up call. There was a chance they would be stuck out here, left for walker bait until the morning when they could run into a smaller town for car parts. There was no sense in getting her hopes up that this was over, or that he could save her.

Biting his lip, he took a couple of the gas cans and began scouring the vehicles fuel with T-dog. This could be a long day.

* * *

I slowly regained my will to move forward, stepping up to one of the cars. I peeked in side, and my stomach dropped to my feet at the sight in the back seat. A baby, strapped into its car seat lay there. It was dead, presumably starved to death, and its eyes were open, staring holes into my own.

"Oh my god…", I groaned, covering my mouth. I took a step back, closing my eyes for a few seconds to recuperate, and a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I let out a quiet squeal, jumping and turning on the person holding me: Andrea.

"Whoa! I just came to see if you'd found anything…", Andrea said, holding both hands up in surrender. Her eyes shifted, and she caught sight of the infant, closing her own eyes, before looking anywhere but the car, "Let's go look for water…"

Fighting down the tears, I nodded quickly, letting out a long breath.

"So, you and Daryl…"

"If you don't mind...I'd rather not. The last person to…I'd just rather not.", I answered, feeling the build up of emotions behind my eyes. As they began spilling over, Andrea gave an apologetic look, nodding.

"She was a good woman…", she said simply, as if it made everything better.

We moved through the cars, each taking different jobs. She checked for the dead, and I picked through laundry baskets. She checked for food, while I checked for weapons. It was a tag-team effort that worked well. Pretty soon, both duffel bags were full of either clothes, or food and guns. Both of us pleased, we headed back to 'base camp' (aka the RV).

"We found a ton of things.", I said to Rick as we approached, "Best of all…these…"

I pulled a full box of .357 magnum bullets from my duffel, and handed them to him. His eyes lit up, like Christmas morning.

"Oh my god. Thank you so much. I'll split them with you…", he started to say, but I shook my head, pulling a second and third box from my bag. His smile grew even wider and he wrapped an arm tightly around my neck, kissing my forehead, "This is amazing…any water?"

"No water. We found some chips, and a couple of cans of soup. Better than nothin' right?"

"Exactly…", Rick said with a smile, and cracked a joke, "Where'd Daryl find you, anyway?"

I let out a laugh, which fell as soon as I caught a glimpse of Andrea's fleeting figure. Rick noticed my glance, and followed it, before turning back to me, "How's she doin'?"

"I don't really know. She was laughing about the shape of a flashlight, not five minutes ago…", I answered with a small sigh.

We both nodded at the fact that Andrea was damaged. It was a mutual agreement.

Rick scooted back, noticing that Dale had grown quiet. He looked up to the top of the RV, as I did. Dale was staring at something intently, which scared the hell out of me. Rick brought his rifle up, pointing it in the direction Dale was looking.

"Walkers?", I asked, my voice starting to shake. He reached a hand out and waved it, telling me to shut up. I placed my hands on my hips, looking around to find Daryl. I didn't see him anywhere, "Dammit, Dare…"

"Oh, Christ…", Rick exclaimed in a whisper, before wrapping an arm around my face, his hand clamping over my mouth. He pulled me to a squatting position, and held me tightly against his body, "We've gotta go warn the others. When I say move…you move quickly, toward the opening. Got it?"

His frantic whispers against my ear didn't help my anxiety, and I felt the bile rising in my throat, as he let go of my mouth slowly. He counted down from three, before pushing me. I ran to the next set of cars, plastering myself against the side of a moving van, as Rick warned Lori.

"Sophia!", I whispered loudly, waving her over to me, "Get down…"

I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I would never forgive myself. If I had just sent her to her mother...

"Shan! Get under the vehicles!", I heard Rick hiss at me. I nodded, covering Sophia's mouth with my hand. Leaning down to her, I pressed my mouth close to her ear and guided her down to the ground.

"Look at me sweetheart…Look at me. We're going to be okay. Alright? I want you to crawl under here with me…", I whispered to her shaking head. I shook mine right back, "We don't have time to argue this. I'm going to take care of you. Do you trust me?"

She shook her head.

"Well, then trust me this once, and you never have to speak to me again…", I whispered, pushing her head down, as I followed her under the van. I reached my hand back around, holding it over her mouth.

The herd passed pretty quietly. I waited for Rick's orders, watching his eyes as he stared directly into mine, glancing to Carl every now and then. Sophia was still, terrified to move, but whimpered every now and again.

Rick held his hand out, looking around to be sure that the herd had passed. After a few seconds, he gave me a smile, and I removed my hand from Sophia's mouth.

"Okay…", I whispered, giving her clearance to leave the van. As she began to crawl out, a Walker fell to its knees, snarling and grabbing at her. Yelping, she crawled back under, pushing at me.

"Go…NO! NO!", she screamed out, pushing the rotting flesh from the Walker's forehead. I did the only thing I knew to do. I scuffled out from under the van, dragging her along with me, and ran.

"Run Sophia!", I whispered loudly, as the walkers began following us down the hill. She ran in front of me, reaching back to grab my hand.

"Shan! Stop running!", I heard Rick yell out to us, but we didn't stop. We couldn't stop.

"They're getting closer!", she yelled, grabbing my shirt, "What do we do?!"

"I don't know! Come on…this way…", I answered, guiding her down a cleared path. Her short legs barely kept up with my own, as we tried to outrun the walkers on our asses. I jumped over a log, and caught my toe, falling to the ground with my full weight. Confused, Sophia didn't stop running.

"SOPHIA!", I screamed, before hearing her yelp out, "No…"

I caught a small flash of Rick's white tshirt, and Sophia's hair as he ran with her. She was safe. She was fine. Rick had her. I carefully pushed myself to stand, and began running down the trail, hoping it lead back to the highway.

* * *

Daryl waited with the others, pacing along side his bike. No one knew where Shan was. They only knew that she had been hiding with that little girl. Damn her conscience. Damn it to hell.

A rustle of the leaves caused his head to perk up, like a dog. Rick exited, alone.

"Sophia? Where's Sophia?", Carol asked, sobbing.

"S-she didn't come back? I told her…I told her to come back to the highway…", he whispered, "Where's Shan?"

Carol collapsed in a puddle of tears, and Daryl closed his eyes, bringing both hands up. He placed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and then shouldered his crossbow.

"Didn't come back…"

"Daryl, I'm sorry….I…", Rick stammered, tears escaping his eyes as he realized the blame was on his shoulders. He failed both of the girls…

"I ain't leavin' here until I find her…both of 'em…", Daryl snapped, "RV ain't fixed. We can find 'em…"

"Yeah. Yeah, we'll go find them. They couldn't have gone far…", Rick agreed, nodding to Daryl. Daryl sniffled, and he and Rick shared a moment of planning between their eyes.

"You can't go out there…they're probably de-…"

"Don't say it. If it were Carl, would you just leave him out there? If it was you, would you want them to pull me from you?", he asked her, gesturing to Daryl, and Daryl's spirits rose. Rick stood up to his wife. Good for him.

"Alright then…", she said.

"Alright. Let's mount up…", Daryl said, taking off down the hill without another word. Until he saw a body, he would search. He owed it to her. She never gave up on him. Against all odds, she found him…

It was his turn to return the favor, and if nothing else, he would find that little girl…


	16. Chapter 16: The End Of Hope

**Author's Note: This is not the most action filled, or Shan/Daryl filled chapter I've ever written, but I hope you'll enjoy it, anyways. I'm a little eh about it, only because it flowed so well. It almost seems boring.**

**Enjoy! Review!**

* * *

Chapter 16: The End Of Hope

"Just a little further and we'll be onto the road…", I spoke to myself out loud. The sun was beginning to go down, and the air was becoming damper by the second. If I didn't find somewhere to go, I would have to stay in the woods all night. Why was I lost? I could have sworn I had only gone a few feet into the woods with Sophia in the first place.

Something rustled not ten feet from me, followed by a yelp. I turned, my hands in a fighting position, ready to draw my gun without hesitation. Suddenly, a tiny body smashed into my side, arms flailing in all directions. I pushed the body away, pulling my gun, before I recognized the face.

"Sophia?! Oh my god…Oh god…", I softened my voice, tugging her against my stomach. She looked okay, but her skin was cold. She had obviously been running for this entire time. I pulled her away again, sinking to my knees in front of her. I could feel the dirt grinding its way into the wounds I had reopened with my fall. I reminded myself shortly to doctor them up, if I made it back to the highway alive, "Where's Rick, sweetie?"

"He told me…H-he told me to go back. Keep the sun on my left shoulder…but…", she coughed out a small sob and pointed above her, "It's going down…"

I let a pout creep onto my lips as I pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger on her face. She was freezing, and I was taking her back to her mother…if it killed me.

"Well. We'll find him. Okay? We're going to find the highway, right now. Let's go this way."

"I just want to get out of the woods…Please Shan…", she begged me.

"Listen to me. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I swear. Sophia…I…swear…"

With a nod, she took my hand and we continued on for what seemed like forever. The sun crept down a little further, and as I saw a break in the trees, the moon had started to light the way. The glistening of water caught my attention first, and my face spread into a smile. Where there was a random pond in the woods, there was usually a house nearby, around these parts. A house…meant safety. The sound of horses was the next thing to catch my attention, and confirm my hopes.

"A house…", I whispered, and Sophia's tired eyes perked up, a smile trying to spread across her facial features.

"Will there be water?"

"I can't promise that. But, it's a place to stay. If Daryl comes lookin' he'll find it. I know he will.", I answered her, looking around the pond. I didn't hear anything suspicious, but I couldn't be too safe.

"You really think he'll come looking for you? He's not very nice."

"I know him better than anyone. If he's not out here for me…he sure as hell will be for you. I told you…ain't nothin' gonna happen to you.", I whispered, before stepping closer to the edge of the tree line. There was the house, in all it's glory. It was an old southern plantation home; complete with the largest pasture I had seen in years. Seven majestic and very well fed horses roamed. If I was lucky, it was abandoned (God rest their souls), and these horses were our ticket out, "Listen…here's my plan. We're going to take a horse, okay? We're gonna go up to the house…and rest there for the night, get the sun in our direction and ride to the group in the morning. I doubt they've moved."

"We're stealing a horse?", she asked me, her innocence shining through like a beacon. Smiling, I nodded.

"Yeah. More than one, if we're lucky enough. I need you to do something for me…I need you to stay here…"

"No…no. I don't want to. I can't…I ca-"

"Listen to me. I don't know if there's anyone here. We don't know these people; if they are alive…it's best that you're not here. If anything happens to me…you run. Do you understand?", I drew close to her face in the darkness, waiting for a nod, "Sophia…I need you to understand…"

"I…I understand…", she stammered, "Where do I go?"

I looked around me, scanning the trees. There was one, in particular, that she could reach the branches of, if I hoisted her up. So, I did.

"Come here.", I murmured, before lifting her up. She took hint and grabbed the low-lying branch, hoisting herself into the heart of the tree, "You stay there until I get back. You're going to be okay. I promise you."

"Just hurry…", I heard her whisper from the darkness above me, and I took off. My first instinct was to run to the barn, but who knew what was waiting for me there? There could be humans, held up and waiting for more cops. If the cops had hit this area, the humans living here were probably dead. So, they wouldn't mind me being here, right?

I ran to the fence, climbed the gate and grabbed the bridle of the first horse I saw. The horse was still warm along it's back, as if it had just been unsaddled. That thought alone was terrifying, as I hopped atop its back, and pulled the reigns behind its ears. It was all so fast, I didn't bother to look around, until the pump of a shotgun caught my ears, and my hands flew to the back of my head in surrender.

"Hop on down from there and keep your hands where I can see them…", an older man wheezed from the darkness. My breathing was now ragged as I thought my options over. I could kill this man..pull my gun and blow his brains out…chalk it up to an unfortunate casualty of the new world. Or, I could surrender, explain my situation and hope that he had it in his heart to allow a little girl to not sleep in the woods. Surely he knew what the woods held at night.

Sighing, I carefully stepped from the horse, keeping my hands on the back of my head. I used the gate as a stepladder, and ended up hitting the ground without ever using my hands. Yeah, I bet that looked cool…if anyone could have seen it.

"Now…what the hell are you doing on my farm?"

"I have a little girl. We're trying to get back to our group. We were ambushed by walkers…and…and both of us were separated from the group…into the woods. How we ended up here, I'm not sure.", I explained, trying my best to not make eye contact. My track record with strange men was against me.

"So you planned to steal a horse?"

"I didn't figure the dead would mind…", I admitted. He was quiet for a second, and a flashlight flicked on, shining brightly against my retinas. I pulled a hand from the back of my head, holding it up for a visor. The assailant to my eyes was a girl, not much older than myself. She didn't look happy, and looked like she had quite a bit of pull, "…we were going to stay here for the night, move on in the morning to find our people. They're on the highway…"

"That's not going to be possible…"

"Please, sir…", I pleaded, stepping a little closer. The shotgun flinched, pointing a little closer to my head as a warning to back off. I decided it was better to show them, "I have a little girl. She needs shelter. If nothing else…take…take her in. Let her stay here. I'll do my best to make it the night in the woods and…and you won't hear from me. Please…"

"Where is she?", the man asked, and I gestured to the woods, "Go get her…bring her here. I'll feed ya…I'll give ya some water. Morning breaks and you're gone…"

"Understood. I'll be right back…", I muttered, running to the woods as fast as my feet would carry me, "Sophia? Hey…we have a place to stay! We have…"

The tree was empty. There was no sign of life anywhere. There were no little footsteps, no whimpers. No sign that there was ever a Sophia in area.

"Sophia!", I yelled out, staring helplessly into the dark as my panic rose in my throat. No. She wasn't gone. That was on me. I left her there. I left her in that tree and now she was gone. Now she was running somewhere. Walkers had probably come along and scared her, and it was my fault. I turned, running back to the edge of the woods in full panic, "She's not where I left her! She's gone…oh my god she's…"

The man stood, staring at me as if I was nuts. He couldn't decide if I was lying. That was it.

"Please. I swear…I just need some help. I need a gun…and…and..and a flashlight…and…"

"You can't go into the woods after dark. It's suicide.", the man said simply, looking down at his feet soon afterward.

"But Sophia…She's alone in the woods."

"And she's no better off if you get yourself killed. Come up to the house…", he said, sighing. The girl's face had softened at the sight of my tears. I was defeated, deflated, and absolutely miserable. What was I going to tell Carol? Oh hey Carol, I found your lost daughter, put her in a tree and walked away. Now, she's probably being eaten as we speak.

* * *

Rick caught up with Daryl. His footsteps were urgent, not wanting the younger man to run around in the woods alone, despite his knowledge. He reached Daryl's side and Daryl looked up, disappointed that he was near him.

"Where'd you leave her?", he asked Rick, receiving a point in the direction of a loud stream the split the woods in half. Letting out a sigh, Daryl stepped forward, bending a knee to look under the roots where Rick was pointing. There was nothing there. There were no footprints, handprints, hairs, or sign of life. There was only mud.

"I told her to go that way…back to the highway. I told her to keep the sun on her left shoulder…", Rick explained, frustrated with himself. It was Shane that spoke up, the dick…

"Assuming she knows her left from her right, Rick. She just had a close call with two walkers. You gotta wonder how much she was thinkin'."

"She knew exactly where to go. She wasn't even cryin'!", Rick pleaded with Shane. Daryl watched, feeling for Rick a bit. It wasn't his fault the girls were missing. It was Shan's fault. For that reason, it was top priority to find this little girl…regardless.

Daryl bent, looking at the tracks on the ground. Other than Glenn's tracks screwing up a large portion of the trail, there were much smaller feet, climbing up the bank. He pointed, almost smiling at Rick, "Here. Look here. She did what you said. She headed back toward the highway…Went this way…"

Rick nodded, climbing up behind Daryl. As they walked along the trail of muddy footprints, Daryl's hopes began to rise. They had to be getting closer. It's not like she would just run around. Maybe she was already at the highway. Maybe it had just taken her a little longer to get there.

Suddenly, as they followed the footsteps, a new set appeared. They weren't much larger, but were obviously different from Sophia's. Daryl's hopes rose even more, pushing him forward. Sophia's footsteps were obvious, but sporadic. They went in all directions, before taking a direction in a run. She listened to directions well. Rick had guided her back to the highway, and she had followed his directions…until she suddenly ventured off, as did Shan's. It was as if they had reached an agreement together, and took off. But why?

"Her trail ends right here…She sorta veers off in that direction.", Daryl explained, pointing.

"Think she saw a walker?", Glenn asked, his face a little worried.

"Nah. It's just her and Shan. No other footprints."

"So, she's not alone? Good…", Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Shane…you and Glenn go back to the highway. People are gonna start panicking before too long."

Both nodded, before leaving Daryl and Rick alone to look over the trail a little further. Not too much longer and the light began to fade. Daryl's stomach began knotting as the orange and purple took over the sky and radiated through the trees, signaling that their hunting was almost over with. He wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.

Rick's hand made it's way across Daryl's chest in a fatherly way, and Daryl brought up his crossbow, pointing in the direction of Rick's glare. A single Walker was stumbling toward them. His face was covered in blood, and his stomach was bloated beneath his shirt. A little of Daryl's hope faded, right then. This was the Walker that would take the last remaining piece of his life from him. Raising the crossbow a little further, he fired a single shot, putting it down.

Pulling his knife, he crouched over it, and stabbed its stomach, pulling of a sort of surgery. Rick's face contorted as he watched, waiting for the outcome of the disgusting procedure. Daryl pulled the stomach and intestines from the walker, tossing most of the wasted guts on the ground. He was only interested in it's stomach. He tore into it without much hesitation, and began fingering through the mess. A singular bone was retrieved, a skull.

"This sumbitch had himself a woodchuck for lunch…", he mumbled, feeling around a bit more. After he was satisfied, and his hope was restored, he looked to Rick, "Now we know…"

Yes. Now they knew. There was a chance Shan and Sophia were both walking around as mindless corpses…but they weren't lunch for this bastard. Standing, they both continued on, heading back to the highway.

* * *

The next morning, I rose without a sound. My brain was moving a hundred miles an hour, and my chest felt as if it would explode. I reached across the warm bed and realized where I was. I was inside of a strange house. I was safe…and inside a strange house. Why was I terrified?

"Sophia…", I said softly into the empty room. There was no one to hear my disappointment, as I stood and slipped my feet into my boots. It was time to move. It was time to find Daryl, and find Sophia…and it was time for the group to find a new home. I swung the door open and ran down the stairs, and was greeted at the bottom by a large man.

"You goin' out after that little girl?", he asked me, and I simply nodded, pulling my hair back around my shoulders, "I'll go with ya. I was plannin' to go huntin' to day anyways. You take a horse and I'll meet you at the pond…"

I stared at him, not sure what to say. He was a man of few words, and he got to the point. He reminded me a lot of my dad. I let a small smile creep onto my lips and nodded, "That sounds great. What's your name?"

"I'm Otis.", he said simply, walking toward the door. I followed happily, glad to have a partner in crime for the day.

* * *

After striking out in a campsite, Daryl and the group followed another lead. There were church bells, just up the hill from where Sophia had gone missing in the first place. She was there. He knew it. She was in the church and she was ringing the bells, knowing that someone would come for her. The glimmer of hope pushed him forward, and he reminded himself that Shan might not be there. She might not be…

Fuck it.

He pushed forward, running as close to Rick's side as he could. Despite Shane's words of discouragement about the lack of steeple, they ran. She had to be there. Reaching the doors, he and Rick went in together, taking machetes along with them. Daryl swung once, slicing an older lady's face in half. As she fell to the ground, he shimmied backward, and looked around the room. She wasn't there. She wasn't fucking there.

"SOPHIA!", Rick cried out in desperation, running back outside. The sound of Rick's desperation oozed into Daryl's stomach and he stood a little taller. He held his face a little straighter, and walked along the center isle, to the statue at the front of the room.

"Yo J.C…You takin' requests?", He asked it. There was no God. There was no heaven, or hell. If so, they were in it right now. There was nothing in this world that could bring that little girl back to her mother, but him. There was no way for Shan to survive…if they didn't find her. Who cared about eating, or drinking, or living? How could they go on not knowing? Shane could kiss his rosy red ass if he thought for a second they were giving up this fight…

DINGDINGDING!

Daryl's head perked up again, and he sprinted. It was the fastest he had run in years, out the door and around the side of the building, toward the sound of bells. Sure, there was no steeple, but who said she wasn't working that box? Who said she wasn't ringing those bells? She could have been hurt, dying…

Glenn followed on his heels, and quickly shot down the scenario, pulling the power pack from the intercom.

"It's on a timer…", Daryl whispered in defeat. His shoulders fell, and he leaned against the wall next to Glenn, looking straight at the Kentucky Blue Grass beneath his feet. Another dead end…

* * *

"We'll split up here. I'll go up this way and look, while I look for some food. We're runnin' a little low on meat. You go that way. Once you hit the pond, do a circle and follow your footsteps back. Don't get lost…kay?", Otis explained to me. I reluctantly nodded my head, looking toward the direction he was pointing. I wasn't totally excited about going off on my own in the dense woods. With the coverage, walkers could ambush you before you could see them coming. They could smell, hear, and see things that should be impossible for the undead.

I stepped away from him, waving a quick 'see you later' to him. Hopefully I would see him again. Hopefully I could thank him for helping me, and Sophia. I followed the footsteps from the night before, tromping through the deep mud as I went.

"Sophia!", I called out, stepping over a log and into another deep vat of mud. I walked for what seemed like forever, circling the pond three times. I saw nothing. A few squirrels, woodpeckers, and a fox…but no little girl.

Then, a gunshot rang through the trees, shaking me to my core.

"Otis?!"

I ran toward the sound of the gunshot, not having much to go by. To hell with the trail. I had to find him, make sure he was alive. I didn't need one more life on the line for me, or my group. This man had family. This man was safe, before I showed up.

"Otis! Answer me, dammit!", I yelled out, finally reaching the dead deer. I stumbled, stopping with a skid in front of it. Slightly behind the body was a blood stain, a large one. The blood didn't drag off, like a walker had made a meal of someone. It stopped, and began trailing like a wounded animal. So, I followed. I ran along the trail, using every bit of tracking I had learned from Daryl. Whatever was bleeding or whoever, was dying as the trail pooled in places. I ran a little faster, until the trees broke into a pasture, and I heard the sound of Rick's screams in the distance.

"Rick?", I whispered to myself, breaking into another run across the field. My boots, by now were beginning to rub painful blisters against my heels, but I couldn't stop myself. Something had happened, and Rick was in shambles about it. Who was hurt? Did he find Sophia? Was she okay? Was she bitten? My mind moved a hundred miles an hour as I sprinted, blood still leading the way across the field. I caught up with Otis, as he struggled to run across the expansive field, "A-are you okay? What happened?"

My stutter almost went un-noticed as we reached the gate, and Rick stumbled forward, onto the front steps of the house with someone in his arms. The shoes were small, and the body was wearing jeans. Rick was in shambles because something was wrong with…Carl.

"Otis! What happened?", I asked again, and he began stuttering tears clouding his eyes as the old man asked the same question, and a woman came to his side.

"I-I was trying to shoot the deer…It was just a deer…", he stumbled along the words, and I realized the terrible truth that Carl was shot. Carl was dying. He was that dying animal I had been tracking. My stomach lurched, and I ran up the stairs, into the house and stood in the doorway of the same room I had slept in. The old man went to work, tearing Carl's clothing and pushing Rick out of the room. As Rick exited, his body looked numb. Honestly, he looked as if he was tranquilized…and it didn't take him long to recognize me.

The hopeless look on his face was more that anyone should ever have to see. Another pang of terror ripped through me as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pushed past me. I couldn't take it personally. He had possibly just lost his son, but I felt completely useless as I sunk down the wall, and pulled my knees to my chest.

What now?


	17. Chapter 17: Tough As Nails

**A/N: So, I like this chapter. That's all I'll really say, and I think you're going to like where I take the Shane/Otis thing, now that there's a witness. Also, I think you'll like where I take the Shan/Daryl thing, now that there's a bit of safety. Here's to an epic next couple of chapters, hopefully!**

**Read, Enjoy, and REVIEW!**

* * *

Chapter 17: Tough As Nails

The group split up. Daryl took the majority into the woods with him, keeping Carol close by, just in case. Rick took Shane and Carl. Daryl didn't exactly agree with the kid going along, since there was a better chance of Rick's little rag-tag group being ambushed and overwhelmed, but it was his kid. He could do what he wanted with the little bastard.

Twenty minutes back into the woods, and a gunshot was heard, perking everyone's heads. Daryl wondered for a split second about it, looking in the direction. It was a rifle, high powered, meant for hunting. He reminded himself of both the men's guns. Shane had been carrying a police edition Remington 870 twelve-gauge shotgun. Rick…of course…had left with only his Python in hand. In order to not scare the rest of the group, he waved a hand to Carol, and kept walking.

"That was a gunshot…", Lori spoke up, and Daryl closed his eyes, keeping his back turned to her as he let out a breath. Great. Of course Rick would leave him to babysit his pain in the ass old lady.

"Both of 'em had guns…", he answered, looking down to the ground.

"But it was one gunshot. Why just one?"

"Maybe they took down a walker…", he started, before she cut him off.

"Don't patronize me. Rick and Shane would never risk it for one walker…they'd have done it quietly…"

"And shouldn't they have caught up to us by now?", Carol chimed in, causing Daryl to roll his eyes, glancing at Glenn. Of course hew as the only man with any balls. Of course he was the one stuck to babysit the women. Shit.

"It's not like we can do anythin' about it anyway. We can't go around the woods chasin' after em'.", he said to Lori, now looking straight at her eyes.

"So what do we do?"

"Same as we been…Beat the bush for Sophia and work our way back to the highway…", he finished, happy to receive a nod of understanding from the 'First Lady'. First Lady, hell. She was just a bossy bitch who had a good leader for a husband. She wasn't his first anything!

Andrea and Carol began conversing about the hope…and the prayer…and the bullshit that they had obviously been fed their entire life. There was no God. There was no heaven and hell. He couldn't think of it every time he turned a corner and found a bitch crying and praying to her God. What good did it do for the rest of the world? Not a damn thing.

"I'll tell you what it's worth, not a damn thing…All this hopin' and prayin'. We're gonna locate that little girl, and she's gonna be just fine…", he almost whispered to Carol, trying to show her that he meant no harm in his comments. It was an opinion. He was doing this for her daughter. He had something to lose here, just as much as she did, but he was looking…for her daughter, " 'm I the only one zen around here? Good lord…"

"Is that what gets you to sleep at night?", Andrea spoke up, and Daryl stopped cold, not turning back to her, "You lost your wife, didn't you? She's out here too, right? So, you get through on blind trust that she'll be fine…no hope…no prayer…You don't believe that there's anything keeping her safe, out here?"

First, the word 'wife' tore through his exterior, and caused a frown so deep to appear on his face that a headache creeped up with it. Shan wasn't his wife…far from it. She was just a girl he knew. She was a girl that he felt responsible for, because she didn't have anyone else – but they had a history, and he loved that girl. He would never say it out loud, but he loved that girl more than the Georgia skyline, and there was nothing he could do right now to bring her back…

"No…I don't. I believe that if she learned anythin' from me, she's alive. That's it. I know she is. I know she's got that little girl, too! So, why don't you go back to feeling sorry for yerself over yer mistakes…and I'll worry bout mine!", he yelled, stepping forward toward Andrea. If not for Glenn's extended arm pressed against his chest, she would have had a face full of Daryl. Instead, he turned, and stalked off, "Stupid bitches…"

"Good going, Andrea…", Glenn sighed, running to catch up with Daryl.

* * *

After a few minutes of sitting alone on the floor, I heard Rick's footsteps, accompanied by others. All three of the men – Rick, Shane, and Otis – walked past me and into the room, where Carl lay on the bed. The world was a bit blurry, as the old man began asking questions about blood types, and Otis explained, in the most broken voice I had ever heard in my life, what happened. I buried my face in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. Why was Rick in the woods, in the first place? Why wasn't the group with him? Had something else happened on the road? Was he lost, too?

Chewing on my lip, I contemplated the scenario, and attempted not to cry, in case Rick needed me. He didn't even know me…but he had been the most supportive of the group, besides Jacqui. The nausea hit me as soon as her name slipped into my mind. Her smile washed over the bad thoughts, but only made me feel worse. I needed Daryl…I needed something familiar to hold onto, while everyone else was in shambles. Sitting off to the side, watching other's worlds fall apart wasn't something I could handle.

"Lori doesn't know…", I heard Rick whisper, and my heart sunk in my chest even further, as he began sobbing the words out, over and over…

Standing, I shook myself, and walked through the front door, away from the tension of that room. If Carl died…

Sophia and Carl were the only ones who held this group together. They were the hope in all of this…the next generation. If both of them died…

I sat myself down on the front step, and looked out across the yard. From my seat, I could see the exact location that I had left Sophia. She had trusted me, until the moment that something chased her from that spot. She had trusted me to bring her back to her mother and I had failed. Now, Carl was in no better shape, as good as dead…

A body sat itself down beside me heavily, and a sniffle followed. Without even glancing, I placed a hand on Rick's knee, and let myself cry.

"He's tough. Rick…he's your son. He's going to make it through this…", I whispered, squeezing his knee as tightly as I could under my tiny palm. He was quiet, simply crying silently into the calm wind of the farm. I guessed there was not much he could say on the matter. His son was lying in a bed, bleeding to death from an accidental gunshot…ironically during a zombie apocalypse. His world was crashing around him, and his wife was nowhere to be seen.

"I shouldn't have let him come with us. He asked…and-and I told Lori it would be okay…"

"Shh…Hey. It's not your fault. You can't start shouldering that crap. It'll kill you. You have to be there for him, no matter what. Placing the blame on yourself is not helping…and…and it's selfish.", I said to him, a little shocked at my speech. He only cried some more, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose.

"I just can't help thinking…That should be me in there…"

"You already went through that, man.", Shane called from behind him. His voice was more annoyed than supportive as he stood leaned against the doorframe. None of us said a word, until Carl began screaming bloody murder from just inside. Rick flinched, standing with some effort, and sprinted back into the house, followed closely by Shane. I watched the horses, debating over and over in my head whether or not to go looking for the group.

* * *

"You know…Shan's tough as nails…", Glenn spoke up, causing Daryl to flinch a bit, his hand tightening on his crossbow.

"Ah yeah? What would you know?", he answered, scoffing a bit. Everyone wanted to bring up her name. They all wanted to talk about her like they knew her, or like they knew what she meant to him. They didn't know shit, and she meant more to him than the entire group did. It was the only thing bothering him…the fact that he never told her.

Glenn retracted a bit, before thrusting a hand forward for emphasis on his next sentence, "W-well I know that when I found her…she looked like some sort of warrior princess. She was covered in blood…walking with a herd of walkers. They were even convinced not to screw with her."

Daryl couldn't help it. He smirked a bit at Glenn's words, before the smirk fell, remembering the shape she had to be in when Glenn found her. The things she had gone through to have her looking like that, he didn't want to know. He stopped, turning to look at Glenn.

"What's yer point?", he asked him, a hint of trust shining through his tough exterior.

"My point is…Humans are smarter than walkers. If the humans couldn't kill her, walkers sure as hell can't…", Glenn said carefully. Daryl stopped again, staring at Glenn, reading him. The kid was torn up. He was trying to be so strong, to be the runner, Daryl's wingman in Rick's absence. Inside, the kid was scared shitless. They were several members down, and Glenn felt at least a little responsible for Shan. So, Daryl gave him hope. He smiled, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Tough as nails…She learned from the best. C'mon. We got work to do.", he said simply. He hoped it was enough to both shut Glenn the hell up, and put a little pep in his step. He hoped right. Glenn smiled brightly, his red eyes clearing up a bit as he nodded, and they continued through the dense woods.

* * *

Rick's staggering footsteps re-surfaced after a while. I don't know how long I had sat there, watching those horses, but by the direction of the sun, I assumed an hour or more. He stumbled, falling onto his ass beside me with a groan. He was pale, as I looked him over, and his eyes were sunk back into his head. My eyebrows furrowed taking in the devastation that this event had caused, and I reached a hand out, once again giving my support by taking his hand in mine. As he pulled himself upright, he let out a broken sob.

"Lori…She doesn't know…", he choked out, as I raised my hand to his cheek, biting my lip. He reached up, pressing the hand there as if it was his saving grace, and continued sobbing, "…My wife. She…she doesn't know…"

"I'll go for her. Rick…I can ride. There are a dozen horses out there. Surely I can find her…", I spoke, drawing myself close to his face. His breathing was labored, as if he had been ill, "Are you okay? You look horrible…"

His eyes rolled back, before settling on my own, dragging my hand down to his lips, "Blood. He needed blood…"

"Then you need rest. Rick, look at me. You need to get inside and relax. You're no good to him dead…", I ordered him, moving to get up.

"I'll go for her.", a female voice said from behind us. I stopped my motions, holding as much of Rick's body weight as I could against my side, and then shook my head. She wouldn't have any of my arguing, though, "…It's my farm, my horses. I know where she is. I'll go."

I huffed, a bit miffed with the scenario, but nodded anyway, helping Rick to his feet. Before entering the house, I turned to the girl, "If you see a hick…no sleeves, carrying a crossbow…tell him I'm here."

"Okay. What's yer name?"

"Shan.", I answered. She nodded.

"Maggie…"

* * *

Daryl stepped over a branch, kicking a piece of it off as he went. He stumbled, quickly feeling a hand grabbing his arm for support. Accepting the support, he stood upright, and then brushed the hand off with a huff. Glenn didn't seem to take it personally, and simply followed him.

"We'll lose daylight before too long. We need to get back to the highway…", Daryl mumbled to the group, who all seemed a bit shaken up and tired. None of them protested. Nodding in contentment, Daryl turned back to Glenn and kept walking.

"So…How'd you meet Shan?", Glenn started up small talk again, which caused a small sigh to leave Daryl's lips. He couldn't deny the kid, but damn he was annoying.

"I met 'er through her dad.", he said simply, raising his eyebrows to jar his memory, "She wad'nt barely sixteen, I think. Hung on my coat tail the moment she met me…"

"And…you liked it?"

Daryl shot a side glance at Glenn, attempting to read what he meant by the question. He meant exactly what was expected.

"Nah man…it wad'nt like that…She was out about it. I just…I ain't like my brother.", he explained, and Glenn nodded.

"I know you're not. So, when'd you decide you loved her?"

"I didn't…", Daryl said, and they both fell quiet. It was the truth. He didn't love her, or at least he didn't think so. It wasn't a common word used around the Dixon household.

Love…

The hell'd it even mean?

A scream perked him up quickly, pulling him out of the thoughts flooding his head. He had to stay on track, and right now, on track was a woman in danger. He assessed who was around him, and the only one missing was Andrea.

"HELP ME!", he heard her scream, and bolted toward the sound, crossbow loaded and ready. He could feel Glenn on his heels, and internally prayed that he wouldn't trip, or Glenn would meet a disgusting demise against one of the arrows on his back, "PLEASE!"

The screams stopped, and so did the group, stopping to stare at the sight in front of them. What happened? Did Andrea get her face bitten off? Serves the bitch right for running her damn mouth…Wait…Nah, he couldn't say that…

Looking up, he let his jaw drop a bit. A woman sat atop a large horse, a bloody baseball bat in her hand.

"Lori Grimes?"

"I'm Lori…", Lori said softly, stepping forward. Daryl instinctively stepped closer to her, ready to grab her arm and drag her away from this psycho.

"Rick sent me! You gotta come now!", the girl said to Lori, causing Daryl to step a little closer. How did this bitch know Rick?, "There's been an accident. Carl's been shot…"

Daryl's stomach fell to his feet as the girl spoke. First Sophia…Now Rick's kid? Great…just great.

"He's still alive, but Rick needs you, just come!", the girl spoke again, scooting forward on the saddle. As Lori stepped forward, Daryl grabbed for her arm.

"We don't know this girl! You can't get on that horse!"

"Let me go. He's my son…You get them back to the highway…", Lori snapped at him, yanking her arm from his grip and climbing onto the horse behind the girl.

"I got a message fer you too…", the girl spoke up, guiding the horse in a circle toward where she came from, "Shan is at the farm. She's alright. Rick said your group was up on the highway…in that jam? Take the VI dock back up a few miles, you'll see a gravel road. Look for the only house on the road…the mailbox says 'Greene'…HAIYAH!"

Daryl frowned, almost in disbelief as the girl rode away with Lori. Shan was alive. She was fine, but what did that mean for Sophia? As the walker sat up, Daryl raised his crossbow, firing a shot into its skull.

"Shut up…", he muttered, brushing past Glenn to move back to the highway.

"D'you here that? She's okay! Daryl…Daryl?"

"You ever shut yer mouth?!", Daryl snapped, causing Glenn to narrow his eyes in confusion.

"I-I thought you'd be happy."

"I'll be happy when I see 'em both alive. Until them, why don't you mind yer own business…", he reluctantly ordered, reverting back to his hostile attitude. He continued to the highway with so many thoughts running through his head, he though it might explode.

* * *

"You're gonna need a respirator…", Otis spoke up, as Hershel explained to us what the prognosis was. After a glass of orange juice, Rick was at himself enough to sit up in a chair, although his emotional state hadn't improved. He still sat sobbing, holding my hand for dear life, "What else?"

"Tube that goes with it. Medical supplies, drapes, sutures…", Hershel continued, causing Shane to stir. I glanced over to him, eyeing him for what he had planned.

"Last hospital around here went up in flames a month ago…", Otis said, before thinking on it, "The high school."

"There's a FEMA shelter there. All the medical supplies we would need are in that trailer."

"Alright then. I said I'd do my part…I guess it's too late to go back on that now.", Shane laughed in grim humor. Rick started to lean forward, as if planning to stand.

"I'll go with you."

"No. You're not going anywhere. If you want that boy of yours to live…you stay here. He'll need more blood.", Hershel stopped him. After weighing my options, I began to fidget, and my breathing quickened.

"I'll go.", I spoke up, and the entire room stopped. Shane narrowed his eyes, and Rick shook his head.

"Nah…No I can't let you. I can't have that on my shoulders when Daryl shows up…", Rick choked out, the thought of telling Daryl I died sending him into another soft sob. He was broken. There was no fixing him until Carl stood from that bed, and was playing in the front yard. So, I swallowed heavily.

"I'm going. I don't care about Daryl. I don't care what he thinks. You tell him that was on me.."

"Do either of you know anything about medical supplies?", Otis asked, and I shook my head, same as Shane, "Then I'm going, too. It's my fault and I know what I'm goin' after."

After some protesting from a woman I hadn't bothered to become acquainted with, we were all in agreement, aside from Rick. I kissed his cheek, and lowered myself to his eye level, "You take care of him, and when Lori gets here, you hold onto her. Alright?"

As he nodded, I noticed that he was beginning to doze off. The blood loss had obviously taken its tole on his body. I glanced to Shane, who was almost glaring at me, and then stood, pulling my gun from my jeans. I flicked it open, checked it for bullets and then flicked it shut, stuffing it back into my pants.

"Here…", Rick said softly from beside me, "Take it…one of ya. You need it more than me."

Staring down at the shiny Python in his hand, I grasped it, before turning to Otis, and handing it over.

"I'll bring it back in perfect condition, Mr. Grimes…", Otis gasped out, before placing the gun in his belt.

"So we're off?", Shane asked, picking his shotgun up from against the wall.

"We're off…", I answered, leading the way out the door. Three snowballs riding into hell, what could be better?


	18. Chapter 18: Head Over Heels Dead

**A/N: So, this took way too long to post up, and I decided to split it in half! What that means for you is that you get two chapters today. I will work hard to get the end of the chapter done...and post it up...that way you're not left with a cliffhanger. :) I hope you enjoy!**

**Things might be intense, if you're really into the story. REVIEW!**

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Chapter 18: Head Over Heels Dead

Pulling up to the tall fence of the high school, all three of us took a deep breath. There were dead bodies scattered along the sides of the roads, and what little we could see of the area inside of the fencing, it didn't look much lighter. Stalking up the hill, we all stared ahead, attempting to judge how many walkers were inside of the circular schoolyard.

"What's it look like?", I asked Shane, plastering my back against the side of a police car. His neck craned out from behind the back of the car. His shaky breath told me all, as I nodded and looked to Otis. Otis was already sweating bullets, as he took his hat off and wiped his forehead with his filthy sleeve. Pointing a finger, he began gasping out instructions.

"See the big medical trailer?", he asked, and Shane peered out from around the car again, before looking back at Otis with big eyes.

"That's what we gotta get to?"

Both of them made it clear that the three of us were in over our heads. If not for the fact that I WANTED to be here, I would have regretted my decision to follow along. I pulled my gun from my waistband and held it to my side, attempting to steady my breathing. I had no idea how this would go down. There really was no good outcome, if it was as bad as Shane led on. We were screwed.

* * *

Daryl made it back to the highway, his palms sweaty. He hated coming back, chased by Carol's sobs and sad stories. Andrea was quiet, at least. Damn bitch needed to keep her mouth shut, if she knew what was good for her. He stepped over the railing, causing Dale to look at him as if he was insane.

"Is everyone alright? Where's Lori?"

"We're fine. This lady came up like Zorro on a horse…took Lori…", Glenn explained, and Daryl almost pivoted to backhand him. As if it would diffuse the situation to start panic amongst the people who were already there. Dale did exactly what was expected. He turned to Daryl, narrowing his eyes in a bit of anger.

"You let her?"

Daryl's own eyes narrowed, and he drew himself close to Dale, before pushing past him, "Climb down out my ass, old man! Rick sent her…"

"For what?", Dale asked, but Daryl ignored him, pacing over to his motorcycle. He hung his crossbow on one of the handlebars, and leaned against Carol's Cherokee, sighing deeply.

"Carl's been shot.", Glenn said softly, "And apparently Shan made it to the farm."

"Then Sophia may be there as well. Alright…It's settled. We'll move out, get to them. Did they say where they were?", Dale asked, causing Daryl to kick some of the dirt below his feet. The idea of being back on a farm brought up anxiety in his chest. Memories…good memories…were left back on the farm.

"She just said some land up the highway; gave us a name.", Glenn answered, "Greene."

"Alright then."

"I'm not going to leave. What if Sophia finds her way back here? What if…what if Shan lost her, and she's close? She can't come back to nothing.", Carol spoke up, the tears threatening to leave her eyes again. Daryl couldn't take much more of this shit. He couldn't take the blame that everyone was putting on not only Rick, but Shan. They didn't know what shape she was in. They didn't know if she was even walking. Hell…she could have given a leg or something to save that little girl. Sighing, he crossed his arms, deciding to do what she would want.

"Alright. We can move out in the mornin'. I don't figure there's nothin' they need us for tonight, anyways. Lori's where she needs to be…the rest of us are fine. I'll stay with the RV.", he spoke up, glancing between Dale and Carol. Before even thinking it over, Dale shook his head.

"If the RV is staying, so am I.", Dale said simply, giving Carol a warm smile. Carol was drawn to tears again, as she turned her face to Daryl.

"Thank you both…"

"Well, I guess that means I'm stayin'.", Andrea spoke up, causing Daryl to roll his eyes and turn back to his motorcycle. Now it was a party, he had to guess. The RV would be crammed full of people, moping around, acting like they gave a shit, waiting for him to find the answers to their problems they created. Yippee. He took a deep breath, calming his annoyance a bit, as the rest discussed Glenn going to the farm alone.

"You have to take T-dog. That cut on his arm has gone from bad to worse. He has a serious blood infection.", Dale explained, perking Daryl up a bit. Rummaging through one of the saddle bags, he pulled a bag of pharmaceuticals out, and held them up.

"Why didn't you say nothin' before?", he asked Dale, smirking to mirror the old man's expression. He pulled out a few things, pushing aside the crystal meth that seemed to cover all of the bottles inside, "Oxy…Crystal…Some kickass pain killers…and these…"

He threw a large bottle of antibiotics to Dale, cringing a bit at the proud smile he received. Once again, he was helping people who probably wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire. He made sure that it was the last of his eye contact; zipping the bag up and throwing it back into the saddlebag.

* * *

Shane sat down, flat on his ass next to me, and sighed. His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly flustered, frustrated, and completely exhausted. I leaned forward, and slowly inched my way up the car to check out the scene that was causing such a morale change. There was probably a thousand walkers, none the wiser to our existence, but definitely dangerous. Getting to the trailer would be a miracle…

Sitting back down against Shane's side, I raised my gun and pointed behind us, "There's no way to make it over there, with them gawking around like that. If you can make enough noise…draw them away from the trailer, I could probably make it. I'm not the fastest runner, but I'm the smallest of us. I have a better shot of squeezing through than either of you…"

Shane stared at me, as I offered myself up to slaughter. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he had no faith I would get through unscathed. He had no faith in me, but he was considering it.

"No.", he said, finally, closing his eyes. He looked down at the ground and then back up at me, "If anything happens to you…I can't have that on me. What am I supposed to tell Rick? Daryl? You ain't goin' alone."

"But…"

"But nothin'. You ain't goin' alone.", he said definitely, his eyes stern, "You shouldn't even be here. It was dumb of me to bring you along. Man, you should be back at the farm…doin' laundry, dishes…anything. No. You're makin' it back…end of discussion."

Frowning, I wrinkled my nose, mirroring Daryl for a split second. Shane seemed to recognize that look, as he gave a small scoff. Tearing his eyes from me, he looked around us, the wheels in his mind turning quickly. I simply watched his facial expressions as they began rising in an idea.

"I need you to go to the trunk…keep it from makin' noise.", he said simply. Without question, I stood and crept to the end of the car, Otis close behind as a form of protection, I guess. He was wheezing so heavily. I almost wanted to tell him to stay back, and let us do all the work. However, I didn't know jack shit about medical supplies, and neither did Shane. As much as Otis slowed us down, we needed him. The trunk popped with a loud creak, causing both out faces to contort at the sound. Great, Shane. Good job drawing the walkers over. I stayed still, and silent, waiting for the herd to move. They didn't budge. They didn't hear a thing.

Phew.

Inside the trunk was a pile of gold, in the form of guns, ammo, grenades, nightsticks, flares, and various other tools. I couldn't help the smile that crept onto my face, as I grabbed a hand full of flares, tossing them onto the ground, along with a box of bullets, and a box of shells. Otis quickly scooped the supplies up, shoving them into his backpack, as I pulled out a concussion grenade, and smiled wildly.

"Holy shit…", I hissed to Otis, who gave a small giggle of excitement. We hit the mother load, and we were going to make it through this. A concussion grenade would do one of two things, if not both. It would guide the walkers toward it, and if it hit amongst them, it would blow a few of them to smithereens.

"What'd you find?", Shane hissed from the door of the car. I held up the grenade, and his face instantly spread into an excited grin, mouth wide, as he raised a fist in the air, "Hell yeah!"

* * *

Daryl lay on the floor, his hands propping his head up. The muscles of his shoulders seemed a little sorer than he had remembered. Then again, he didn't remember the last time he had sat still, before this moment. He flexed the muscles of his arms, wiggling his fingers against the back of his head. The night was going to drag by, at this point. It was quiet, only the sound of crickets and frogs carrying through the woods to keep him awake, as he contemplated his next day.

There was a chance to find that little girl, and have a safe haven. If Rick was at the farm, and Shan was there…and Carl was receiving medical attention, the place had to be pretty safe, right?

A soft cough, followed by a sob caught his attention, and he sighed, recognizing the voice. It was time for Carol to start grieving. It was time for the sadness to take over. He had to sympathize, as best he could. Her daughter was in the woods alone. Her young daughter was spending a second night alone, unless she was with Shan. He had to hope that she was with Shan…

Sitting up, he chewed his lip, staring through the doorway at Carol's shaking figure. He couldn't sleep here. He couldn't listen to this bitch whimper all night. He was better off sleeping outside, or at least wearing himself out first. He stood, and exited the RV.

"Hey, I'm gonna go walk the road…", he called up to Dale, who lowered his binoculars and sighed.

"Not alone. You should…"

"I should what? Take Andrea? Bitch'll just slow me down…", Daryl scoffed, grabbing his crossbow from the handlebar of his bike.

"Is that what you really think? So, what? You're better off alone?", Andrea's voice broke his silent stare, as he chewed the skin from the inside of his lip. After earlier, the things she said, calling him stupid, and talking about Shan as if he knew shit about her…no…she wasn't going anywhere with him.

"Yeah…It's exactly what the hell I think. Why don't you go off and do the same, if you wanna help so damn bad. Maybe you'll get lucky and a walker'll give you what you really want…dumb bitch…"

Her facial expression changed from annoyed to completely shocked that he would even come up with such words directed toward her. Satisfied, he looked back up to Dale, "I'm goin' for a walk…Leave me be."

As he turned, he noticed Andrea looking up at Dale for help, but she received none, and Daryl disappeared into the woods.

* * *

Shane lit one of the flares in his hand, tossing it hard over his shoulder, away from the trailer. As it burned, we notice that the walkers, indeed, went for the flame. All of us shared a moment of happiness, excitement…false security, as the entire hoard began sprinting toward the flare on the ground. I waited, holding out for a signal from Shane. He was in control here. Being a former cop, we were all relying on his skills.

Otis lit his own flare, tossing it over the roof of the squad car, attracting more walkers to ground zero. Again…I waited, holding my grenade in my hand as if it was a one way ticket to safety.

"Alright…let's move…", Shane whispered, causing me to nod my head in agreement. I stood, carefully pulling myself away from the car, and placed my gun back into my pants, as I took off in a sprint behind Shane. His hand reached out behind him and took mine tightly, dragging me along with his long strides. I kept up as best I could, looking back at Otis, who was struggling, but was following us, at least. I tightened my grip on Shane's hand, linking our fingers together in trust, as we closed in on the trailer.

The door of the trailer opened louder than any of us would have wished, but didn't cause the walkers to stir. Shocked, but with no time to dwell, Shane drug me through the door, and pushed me into a corner of the tiny trailer.

"You stay there. I want you to grab bandages, alcohol, whatever you can find...", he gasped as Otis joined us and immediately began rummaging through the shelves. I nodded, turning to the shelf behind me, and began stuffing dozens of gauze packets and alcohol pads into my backpack.

It didn't take us long to ransack the stocked shelves. The bags began to bulge, and we quickly ran out of room for the extra supplies, and with a couple of final items, Otis zipped his backpack and stood.

"Alright. Let's get the hell out of here.", Shane said simply, reaching for me. I zipped my own pack, and threw it over my shoulders, taking his hand. Now was the hard part. Both men had bags full of heavy medical equipment. Otis was the worst off, carrying a respirator, and all the garb that went with it. He was slow enough as it was. Counting to three, Shane opened the door quickly, but stopped in his tracks, causing the oxygen tanks to shift and clank against each other loudly. I knew what had happened, as I clamped down on his hand. The snarling and roar of the entire herd overtook us. We were probably trapped. I pulled my gun, with my other hand, and held it flat against Shane's back, waiting for a sign from him.

"Shane?"

"Sh-sh-sh…", he whispered slowly, as if trying to make the walkers think we weren't actually there. However, the roar became louder and louder, every second we sat still.

"Sh-Shane? What's happening?"

"C'mon! Stay close!", he yelled out, suddenly, giving up the idea of the walkers moving on. He pulled me forward, and we began running. With a quick turn, my shoulder slammed into the corner of the school, but I kept up, racing up the stairs with him, "Otis! Stay with us, man!"

I looked back, reaching out for Otis, who seemed to struggle more and more with each breath. He cleared the stairs, and caught up to us, the heavy bags slamming against the backs of his legs as he did his best to sprint.

My face smashed against Shane's shoulders as he came face to face with a walker, snarling and reaching for him. I backed up, as he began stepping on my feet, and drug him, this time, down a pathway between the fences. Seemingly thankful, he pulled ahead of me, and held my hand tighter than ever, as the walkers began closing in on Otis.

"OTIS! C'mon!", Shane yelled back at him, and Otis chugged along, struggling to breathe more with every step. I could tell that if we didn't stop, soon, he wouldn't make it, unfortunately. We couldn't come back a man down…we just couldn't.

We ran past a doorway, which caused my head to turn. Shane saw it too, but ran past it, his hope taking over that we would be able to run them around the building, and somehow get through the gates without them. The odds…

We were blocked off, pretty quickly. The walkers made their way around this side, too, almost taking Shane down. I grabbed his backpack straps, holding him up, the best I could, and drug him toward the door.

"We have to get inside….regroup...", I gasped, pulling him toward the doorway. He thought about it for the only second he had, before he pushed me back toward Otis, and blew the glass from the doors with his shotgun. I didn't hesitate, running after him as he entered and began unchaining the security fence on the inside, "Otis…get inside!"

"I'm workin' on it! I knew I shouldn't have had that extra…bacon…this morning..", he answered, and both Shane and I had to crack a smile, pulling the gate closed behind him. We were trapped, our backs against a wall. Great. What else was new?

"What do we do now?", I asked Shane, who was breathing through his teeth. He had stress written across his forehead, and fear in his eyes. He didn't see a way out, for any of us. I twisted my body, turning to the glass behind us. Of course! We were in the gym entrance, "Shane…the gym!"

Turning, he began laughing, the stressed laughter almost creepy as he peered through the glass, into the expansive gym, hallways veering off in every direction toward locker rooms and offices, "Shit, man…"

"What?"

"It's overrun. If we get in, we'll be cornered.", he answered me. I glanced to the walkers snarling and reaching for us, inches from our faces.

"And we're not, now?"

"Good point. Cover your eyes!", he called out, before smashing the glass doors with the butt of his shotgun, "C'mon…down here…"

I glanced around him, trying to see the place we were headed to. It was a long hallway, the exit sign at the end still reflected in the moonlight. I didn't know if it was a way out, but Shane seemed to think it might be. As we veered into it, the walkers followed us close, almost too close. I began to worry about Otis, looking back at him every now and again, to make sure he was fine.

"You need me to take that?", I called out to him, gesturing to one of his bags, as he huffed, and he shook his head violently, waving a hand for me to keep going. I reluctantly turned back forward, and kept following Shane.

Suddenly, I felt something rake down the back of my booted foot, stopping me in my tracks.

I lunged forward, slamming into the ground, my body doubling over itself, as Otis tripped over me and kept running. Worried about him, I had slowed down, and he had stepped on me. I crawled, attempting to at least keep up with him, as Shane tried to turn and come back for me. The hands raking against my legs didn't help any. I could feel the walkers fingernails threatening to dig into my calf muscles, as they grabbed and tore at my jeans.

"Shane! SHANE!", I screamed out, watching his dilemma play out on his face of whether he had time to save me or not, "No! Don't go!"

He left me.

He grabbed Otis, shaking him out of his shock, and continued running down a different hallway. I reached out, but soon realized that I was being left. They weren't coming back. If I stood, I could get away. I turned onto my back, and began backing up in a crabwalk, as the herd closed in around me, "NO! Help me! Shane!"


	19. Chapter 19: Threats and Promises

**A/N: As promised...here's the continuation of last chapter. Don't hate me too much for how I wrote Shane! He's such a good villain!**

**Review! I'm taking suggestions!**

* * *

Chapter 19: Threats and Promises

"Oh god…no no no…", I groaned, backing up until my back touched something hard. I had cornered myself. I was up against another wall, and the herd was right on top of me. This was it. This was the end. I pulled my gun up, holding it beneath my chin and closed my eyes, "I'm sorry…"

As my finger came over the trigger and I leaned my head back, the 'wall' behind me moved a bit. I shoved against it with my back, and it moved again. Scrambling, I pushed against it, pushing my way through the newfound door. Finally, I had some sort of room to move. I stood to my feet, my hands shaking and pushed my body against the door, as the walkers attempted to muscle their way in for a quick meal.

As I pushed, I thought about the scenario, and the outcome, and the fact that I had almost killed myself. That was it, for me. That was the endgame. I didn't want to go down swinging at these things. I didn't wanna die of the fever, or watch as the undead bastards ate my lower half. I would go out quick, and easy, like Jenner had wanted for us.

Closing my eyes tightly as I pushed, I shook the idea of suicide from my head. No. I was going to make it out of this one.

"C'mon Shan. Get your shit together…", I mumbled to myself as one of the walkers pushed hard enough to sneak his head through the door. He snarled and reached for me. I took a deep breath, and pulled my body a couple of feet from the door, before ramming it with all hundred pounds of weight. With a sickening crack and splatter, the walker's head exploded, and his fingers fell to the floor, as the door latched itself. I cringed, slinging my hands free of most of the blood, and then slid down the door. As my ass hit the floor, I heard gunshots from down the hall, "SHANE! SHANE IN HERE!"

The gunshots stopped, and the gym fell into silence as the walkers made their way toward Shane. Maybe he was firing off those shots to give me a chance to escape. He was doing a good job at it. I stood, with some effort, and picked my backpack up from the ground. The moonlight showed through the window like a spotlight, as if beckoning me to use it. I stood on a desk, and peered through the tiny window, down onto the lawn, in time to see Shane limping across.

"Oh my god…", I gasped out, relief washing over me at the sight of his face. Without hesitation, I smashed the butt of my Python against the glass, shattering the hell out of it. Hearing the noise, Shane looked up, surely afraid to find walkers coming for him, "Shane! Oh my god…Shane…"

"You hurt?", he called up to me and I shook my head, "C'mon sweetheart…jump…I'll break the fall."

I nodded, taking a deep breath, and hoisted myself through the window. I carefully turned my body, toeing my lower half down the brick wall, until I felt Shane's hand wrap around my ankle. The hand ran up, almost palming my thigh, as I let go, and we both toppled to the ground.

"Oh my god…you didn't leave me…you didn't leave…", I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, as we both caught our breath on the grass. The gratitude seemed to be new to him, because he smiled. He smiled the most hopeful smile I had seen on Shane's face since I met him. Our reunion didn't last long, as the snarls filled the air again, and we were forced to carry on. I helped him up, wrapping an arm around his waist, to help him as much as I could.

We managed to outrun the small herd, and Shane pulled me to him, sliding down the brick wall behind a dumpster. He glanced over the short wall, toward the truck we had arrived in. For the most part, it was clear enough to make it, if we could hurry. With his injury, it would prove more difficult.

"We're gonna go that way…get around that fence, and we'll be home free…", he gasped out, wiping his forehead.

"What about Otis?"

"He either made it or he didn't. We got split up…", he explained, looking down at the ground. I wanted to know where Otis was, but we all knew the risks. All of us had had close calls tonight.

"Alright. Stand up.", I murmured, throwing his arm back around my shoulders. We took off, stumbling toward the fence. I gasped quietly as a walker met us halfway, coming out from behind an abandoned car. I pulled us backward, as Shane pulled his shotgun up and blew its head off.

"Dammit…", he hissed, realizing that he rang the dinner bell…again. As quickly as we had seen the fence empty, the walkers covered it up, blocking us off. We would have to go around the other side. I stopped, turning to watch behind us, as more walkers tried to close in.

"We have to move faster."

"No. We'll take them out.", Shane argued, causing my eyebrows to raise, as he began loading his shotgun.

"Take them out? Take them out…we don't even have the ammo. Otis had it.", I retorted, as a large herd of walkers slammed into the fence, and pushed Shane forward against my chest. I grabbed his shoulders, pulling him away from me as the situation went from bad to worse. Once again, we were corralled.

"What do you suggest? Huh? If you haven't noticed, we're a little pressed for options. I suggest you use that pretty little gun, now…", he snapped, as one of the walkers sneaking up on us fell to the ground with a gunshot. Both of our heads rose to see where the gunshot had come from, and smile spread across Shane's face, "Well son of a bitch…"

Otis reloaded his rifle, and shot another of the walkers with precision. Shane took the last one out, and dragged me forward, his limp not hindering him quite as bad.

"Man, I thought I lost you!", he yelled at Otis, clapping a hand on his shoulder for support.

"That was my last rifle round…", Otis explained grimly as we scuffled across the lot. I wrapped an arm around Shane's waist, attempting to help as much as I could.

"Mine too. C'mon…", Shane said, glancing to me.

We stumbled down the fence, down the hill in front of the vehicles. The road was beginning to look a lot closer, a lot more manageable. So, Otis decided it was time for a break. We leaned against the fence, catching our breath. While we were still, I checked myself over. The various scrapes and pains I was feeling were making me nervous. I had geeks all over me. One of them probably scratched the hell out of me. I was probably dead.

No. I couldn't think that way. I couldn't think that way, yet. Walkers smashed against the fence, more than we had seen the entire day, and pushed us all forward. Shane drew his hands up to his head, clearly losing his patience with the situation. This was the Shane I was afraid of. This was the Shane that I had only seen at the CDC; panic Shane; protective Shane.

I followed him, as he grabbed Otis and began stumbling around another fence, into a partitioned lot. It wasn't safe, but it was empty, for the time being. It gave us time to run across, before the walkers took over. They couldn't box us in. Brilliant.

We all took out our guns as Shane did, opening them.

"How many?", Shane asked us both, rolling his eyes at his answer.

"I have six…"

"Four…", Otis answered.

"I got five…one in the pipe…", Shane chimed in as well, "Make 'em count."

We continued forward, prepared to take out our fifteen walkers when we needed to. However, Shane hit the ground, his leg no longer wanting to carry him.

"No!", I called out, running back and grabbing his arm. He began shrugging his backpack from his shoulders, and held it out to me.

"Take this…go back…"

"No.", I said softly.

"We're not leavin' you behind.", Otis chimed in, and Shane began to lose his temper, rising to his knees with some effort. I think he realized at that moment that he was all we had. We needed him, more than he realized. He forced himself up to his feet and grabbed Otis, much to my happiness, and we took off again.

"We're almost there!", I called out from in front.

"I'm sorry…", I heard Shane whisper from behind me. I furrowed my brow, stopped running and turned.

"What do you..?", I asked, as he shot Otis in the leg. The cold look in his eyes took me off guard, "SHANE!"

"Shut the hell up! You shut your mouth!", He screamed at me, grabbing Otis' backpack. Otis began to fight back, scratching and pulling hair as Shane punched and kicked at him to retrieve the backpack. Finally, he scooted back from him, punching him in the face to get his hair back, "Get his gun…"

"What?"

"GET THE DAMN GUN!", Shane screamed at me, as I shook my head in disbelief. I stood still for a second, "Get the gun…NOW!"

I jumped, and gave Otis a pitied look, as I grabbed for Rick's python that was clenched in his fist. The fist wouldn't budge, and his other hand reached up to grab a handful of red hair.

"Ahh! Let me go!", I screamed out, grabbing at my hair.

"Let go…LET GO!", Shane screamed, running up to us. He raised a boot, and brought it down on Otis' head, knocking him out. His hand fell from my face, as the blood began to seep from his nose, "Now c'mon!"

I wrenched the gun from Otis' hand and stood, running along behind Shane. I didn't look at him, only followed him out of the schoolyard. Even when he turned, and closed the gate behind us to hold the walkers off, I didn't stop to look at him. I continued, reaching the truck alone. I stood there, breathing heavily. I had just assisted in the murder of an innocent man. I had just…

I pulled the hammer back on my Python, and drew it; the second Shane rounded the truck.

"And what the hell do you plan to do with that?", he ridiculed, tossing the backpacks into the back of the truck.

"I'm not lettin' you go back. I'll tell 'em everything…"

"What? You'll tell them how Otis gave his life, to save Carl? You'll tell them that we were hold up in this hellhole, and that I saved your damn life?! Huh?! What you gonna tell 'em?", he asked me, the evil glare in his eyes terrifying enough to cause my gun hand to shake. I thrust it forward, almost smashing him in the forehead with it.

"I'll tell 'em you shot him down in cold blood. I'll tell 'em that you're a murderer…You made me help you kill that man!"

"You didn't have to do SHIT! You took the gun…you left him there…you can't lay that all on me! You got blood on your hands too!", he screamed, his nose inches from mine, as I drew my gun back, holding it by his temple, "Now…you either kill me, or you get the hell in the car…and KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

"I'm not lettin' you go back…", I said softly.

* * *

I opened my eyes, blinking the haze from them slowly. Bolting upward, I realized that I was in a tent. I was in a random tent. I was back.

"Relax…", I heard from the door of the tent, turning to see Rick smiling, "You hit your head pretty hard when you fell. Keep this up…and you're gonna kill yourself."

I climbed to my knees and quickly crawled toward him, exiting the tent. He seemed surprised, as he scooted back and gave me room to escape. I grabbed my boots, and shoved my feet into them, as he stood.

"What happened?", I asked him, and he narrowed his eyes at me, taking in all of the features of my face in one quick second.

"You fell…hit your head. Shane carried you out. Otis…Otis didn't make it.", he explained. I brought a hand up to my head slowly, running my fingertips over a new bandage, and quickly realized what had happened, "Is that what you remember?"

Swallowing, I contemplated telling Rick everything. I contemplated admitting to him that I had helped, but that Shane had murdered Otis. Shane had murdered Otis, and used him as bait. However, I decided against it. I figured Shane would tell Rick soon enough. Instead, I nodded my head, tears stinging my eyes.

"The others made it. Daryl's eating some lunch…He said to let you rest. Be patient with him…he's a little…miffed at us."

"For lettin' me go?", I asked him, and he answered with a nod.

"Get yourself up and around when you're able, and I'll fix you a sandwich. Sound good?"

"Sounds great. How's Carl?", I asked him, and he smiled warmly, before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"He's gonna pull through."

"Good. I'll be in, in a sec.", I said with a teary smile, and he turned, walking back toward the house. As he did so, Shane appeared, his eyes on fire with paranoia and anger. I swallowed heavily, and gathered my gun, and bullets quickly, as well as one of my water bottles.

"How you feelin'?", he called out to me, and I ignored him, stepping over a log to get to the well, "I asked you a question…"

"And I'm choosing not to answer you."

"What'd Rick want?", he asked, stepping up close to me as I began pumping water into it's pale. I grabbed the ladle, and scooped some of it into my water bottle, as Shane's breath began moving the hair on the back of my neck.

"H-he wanted to see how I was…that's all."

"You sure that's it? I mean…you guys seemed a little cozy, like he might have felt sorry for you, for something. What'd you tell him?", he asked me, moving my hair from my shoulder. I could feel his lips moving against my neck, as I dropped the ladle and stepped away from him. I left my bottle, and everything, back toward my campsite, in clear shot of the house.

"Leave me alone, Shane."

"See… I could do that, or we could work this out…", he said sarcastically, following my every foot step. As I continued to walk, he slowly grew fed up, his breathing telling the story. I braced myself, for whatever he was going to dish out. As I felt him grow closer, I grabbed my gun, ready to draw on him. Suddenly, his hands were around my wrists, pressing them against my lower back, as he led me down a hill and smashed my face against the side of a tree. His body pressed against me, his mouth pressed to my ear, "What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him shit! I just woke up…He came to check on me."

"STOP LYIN'!", he screamed, which turned into a laugh, as his free hand worked its way up under my tank top, slowly snaking his fingertips along the skin of my stomach, "I don't like it when people lie to me. It makes me go a little crazy, you know? I wonder what they're thinking…I figure out what hurts them…what scares them. And ohhh trust me. I know exactly what you're afraid of, darlin'."

The same hand worked its way down, flicking the button of my jeans open with a pop, and slipped inside, resting against my thigh.

"You sure you didn't say nothin'?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I gritted my teeth and pressed my nose against the bark heavily, "I'm positive! I haven't done anything…", I half sobbed.

"Then let me make myself clear…", he whispered, placing a soft kiss to the area behind my ear, "Keep your mouth shut. Just shut up…because I don't think the group values Dixon…as much as you do."

My eyes shot open at his sudden threat, and he continued, "Oh yeah…I've watched him. I know his ways inside and out. I'll have him gutted like a fish and fed to the walkers before you can utter a word…Do I make myself clear?"

I didn't say a word, as the shock washed over me. Between the hand in my pants and the sudden threats, I didn't know what to say. He leaned against me suddenly, scraping my mouth and nose against the tree and squeezed my thigh.

"Crystal…", I whispered, and he was gone. He completely removed himself from me, and stalked back toward the house, as if nothing had happened. I kept myself pressed against the tree, spreading my legs so that my pants didn't fall down, and just sobbed against the bark.

* * *

Daryl finished his lunch quickly, anxious to get out to the tents to touch bases with Shan. After thinking she was gone, he was anxious to see her, to let her know they had looked for her. After knowing that she went with Shane on a suicide mission, he wanted to beat the hell out of her. Of course, he would never lay a finger on her, in reality, but the thought always crossed his mind when he was angry. It was habit.

Shane entered the house, clad in oversized clothing, and his head shaved. Daryl narrowed his eyes at the maniacal look Shane gave to everyone. He had guilt all over his face.

"The girl…she's up and movin' around. She seems in good spirits, considering."

Daryl narrowed his eyes again, and stood from the table, "I'll go out there and check on 'er.", he said softly. Rick nodded to him, and Shane's face didn't change as he gave an awkward grin.

"You do that. I'm sure she's excited for you to be back…", he murmured, and Daryl's eyes didn't move from their suspicious glare, as he exited the house. Gawking across the lawn, he noticed that Shan was exiting the woods. She was buttoning her pants, and coughing a bit. As she wiped her mouth, he drew close enough to see her face for the first time, since she had gone missing. Her lip was busted open, and her nose looked pretty dirty, but she looked fine.

"How you doin'?", he asked, reaching a hand out to touch her face. She flinched, not removing her eyes from the ground, and sat down on her log. Daryl stared, not sure what to do, "You…you want some lunch?"

She shook her head slowly, staring straight ahead.

"Rick said that guy…"

"Just…leave me alone. Please.", she simply muttered. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, and bit his lip.

"Wha'?"

"Just what I said…I want to be alone. That means you, Dare. I want you…to go away…"

"…Suit yerself, I guess…", Daryl sighed. Defeated, he turned and entered the woods alone.


	20. Chapter 20: Once A Savior

**A/N: So, I was writing this as one chapter. The flashback kinda took the whole thing over. So, I'm posting it as two chapters. I thought I'd go ahead and post the first one for you guys. It's all flashback, and it's set in the fall, after Shan's 17th birthday. **

**Enjoy, REVIEW!, and I'm super excited for the next chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter 20: Once A Savior..._

_"He's on his way. I want you guys to be on your best behavior. No stories. No feeding him. None of that.", I told my parents, who rose their eyebrows in unison, "I mean it, dad."_

_"Alright, alright. I get it. What is this I'm letting you go to, again?"_

_"Homecoming. It's simple. He comes to the door, meets you. You take some pictures, and send us on our way. Please don't screw this up.", I pleaded, giving my best puppy dog impression. My mom's face stayed solemn, obviously not pleased with my sudden decision to participate in school activities. School activities in Atlanta tended to turn into debauchery, and debauchery tended to ruin teenage lives._

_"I want you to be careful. No drinking. Hey…I'm serious. Let Daryl know you're leaving."_

_"Why? He's probably gone home, by now.", I asked, narrowing my eyes at her._

_"I just want someone to be out when you get back. He can at least walk you into the house, just in case."_

_"I'll have Nathan do that, mom. I don't need your watchdog holding my hand every step of my life. I'll be fine. I promise.", I answered, biting my lip at the idea of walking out of the house with a guy, if Daryl was still working. I hadn't seen him leave, but then again, I hadn't really seen him much at all that day._

_As if on queue to be my savior, the bright lights of Nathan's hummer shined through the window, and my heart leapt into my chest. My first real date: Yay!_

* * *

_Daryl wiped his hands, turning the key on the ancient tractor. The roar it produced, followed by a small puttering idle caused him to smile, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He had worked all damn day on the stupid thing, changing out so many parts that he couldn't tell blood spots from grease spots on his white tank top._

_It was totally worth it._

_The sound of gravel being thrown around, and horses stirring called his attention to the driveway, where a giant S.U.V. was pulling up out of nowhere. His protective nature took over, and he climbed down from the tractor, placing his hat atop his head. He slung his flannel shirt around his back, covering his arms, and started to button it, as he approached the driveway._

_"Can I help you with somethin'?", he called out to the younger man climbing down from his tank. He was tall and thin, had long, curly blonde hair that covered one of his eyes. He was wearing a v-neck tshirt under a suit jacket, and a pair of jeans. This kid looked like a Class-A douchebag. Daryl almost scoffed at the sight before him._

_"I'm here to pick up Shan. You her dad?", the boy asked him, causing Daryl to raise his eyebrows._

_"Pick 'er up? For what?"_

_"Ah. She didn't tell you. I didn't peg her for the daddy issues type…"_

_"I ain't her dad.", Daryl snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn't like this kid. He definitely didn't like this kid on Mr. Berry's property, taking Mr. Berry's daughter anywhere, "And I don't think you should…"_

_"Nathan!", Shan called from the steps. She bolted past Daryl, slinging her arms around 'Nathan's' neck._

_"There you are! I was just talking to your…um…"_

_"Daryl. His name's Daryl. He works here.", Shan explained, and Daryl's eyes narrowed at how casual she said his name, as if he didn't matter. It was as if he was just an employee._

_"Well…I think that counts, right? That counts as meeting people?", Nathan asked, and Daryl's eyes narrowed even further. He almost wanted to grab her ass and drag her back in the house with her parents; away from the hungry eyes of a teenager he never pictured her with, in the first place._

_Shan glanced back toward her parents, giving them a pleading look, and then back to Nathan, who gave her his million-dollar smile. Without hesitation, she nodded and ran around the side of his truck, causing Daryl to protest and step forward._

_"You can't g-…"_

_"Hey, now. Relax. Here…How's about you go buy yourself some dinner. Huh? On me; I can tell they don't pay you much around here.", Nathan whispered, drawing himself close to Daryl. It took two seconds for a million ways to hurt this kid to fly through Daryl's mind, before the kid insulted him, stuffing a twenty into the breast pocket of his shirt. His nostrils flared, as he watched the door of the hummer shut. Shan's eyes met his through the windshield, pleading with him not to be mad, begging him to laugh at the 'joke' and move on. Joke, hell…_

_Scoffing, Daryl stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began walking toward Riot._

_"Daryl! You wanna come in for dinner, sweetie?", Mrs. Berry called out to him. He didn't answer, his shoulders high, his spirits in the dirt. This was his normal demeanor. Knocked down, but just manly enough to hold it in, just manly enough to shake off the annoyance of 'kids'. Chewing on his lip, he climbed the fence, and threw himself over Riot's back, taking off toward the woods to go home._

* * *

_The gym was already packed, when we stepped inside. People that Nathan knew began flying at us from all directions, commenting on my sundress, and my hair. They asked if my hair was natural, or if I was copying someone. Of course it was real. Who wanted red hair…that wasn't real?_

_"It's real…", I said in a small voice, suddenly regretting the idea of being here. This wasn't my scene, standing in a giant room with a bunch of people who had only seen me in a handful of classes. I took mostly AP classes. So, the majority of this school had no clue who I was, or what I was saying, half the time. They pushed me under a rug as a pretty, rich, smart girl, and moved on._

_Nathan's arm left me, as he began fake wrestling with one of his buddies from the basketball team. I crossed my arms across my chest, and sighed. Either this would be a ton of fun, or the worst night ever._

_[Fast-forward two hours]_

_This was the worst night ever._

_What little time Nathan had actually spent anywhere near me, was taken up by talks of his career outside of school, and what he wanted in a trophy wife. At one point, I thought he insulted me, but I wasn't sure._

_"I think I'm just gonna go home. I'll call my dad.", I said finally, cringing at the way it obviously sounded. He had forked out money for gas, to get to my house, out in the middle of nowhere. He had bought me this flower thing on my wrist. _

_That didn't change the fact that he was the worst date, ever._

_"Now, hold up. What's wrong?", he asked, reaching forward to grab my hand from across the table._

_"I can do this at home, is all. I don't wanna sit here. I wanna dance, and make friends. I wanna be bold, for once."_

_"Bold, huh? You…want to be bold. I think I can arrange that. C'mon.", he said in a sneaky tone of voice. I furrowed my brow in confusion, standing from my chair as he drug me down the sidelines._

_"Where are we going?"_

_"We're going to be bold.", he answered, shoving a large metal door open with his elbow. As we entered, the smell of sweat, and cologne filled my nose, and I realized…we were in a locker room._

_"I don't know if we should be in he-.", I started to protest, but he turned, his lips crushing mine. The kiss wasn't loving, or attractive. It was rough, and forceful. He was assaulting my lips, biting and sucking on the bottom one like some sort of candy. Disgusted, I pulled away from him, pushing his face away._

_"What the hell?", he asked, as if I was insane._

_"That's not exactly what I would call…romantic."_

_"Who said anything about romance?", he scoffed, grabbing my face again._

_"No! Nathan…stop. Let…GO!", I screamed, my fingers digging into the side of his face. My nails, though kept short, dug into the flesh, scraping down to his chin. He yelped, pushing me hard against the lockers, where I stood, and crossed my arms across my chest._

_"I should have known you would be a waste of time. Farmer's daughter my ass…Have a nice walk back to Senoia, slut…", he gasped at me, before leaving the locker room, the door slamming behind him._

_Great. I had a nice twenty-mile walk ahead of me…Good job, Shan._

* * *

_Daryl reached the house, stalking up the steps and slamming the door behind him. Merle's head perked up, and he immediately noticed the look on Daryl's face._

_"Uh oh. D'you get fired?", Merle asked, a cocky grin on his face. Daryl knew better than to take offense to Merle, but it still pissed him off._

_"Go ta hell…"_

_"Ah…I get it. Farmer's daughter.", Merle teased._

_"You best shut the hell up…I'm goin' to bed."_

_"I just never pegged you for someone that liked little girls, baby brother. She's cute, but…"_

_"I said SHUT THE HELL UP!", Daryl yelled, as he stomped away, slamming his bedroom door behind him. He could hear Merle giggling, from down the hallway, as he threw his hat over the bedpost, and began toeing out of his boots. Unbuttoning his shirt, the twenty fell from the pocket, and crinkled against the wood floor, loudly. Another scoff left Daryl's throat as he thought back to the kid, and how rude he was. The fact that Mr. Berry would even let Shan near a kid like that threw him for a loop. This was a man who wouldn't even let his daughter eat meat, unless it came from the farm. He wouldn't let her buy clothing, unless her mother was there to supervise. Yet, he let her go out with a complete scumbag on her terms? Daryl felt the need to worry about the old man, and his sanity. He worked for him, and the farm was his responsibility. That scum of a city brat didn't need step foot back through the gates…_

_The phone rang down the hall, causing Daryl to raise a brow, and glance. It was probably the old man, asking him to come back and 'discuss' what had happened. It was probably the old man worried that Daryl would quit over some smart mouthed brat calling him poor._

_He had been through worse._

_"Yeah! He's in his room pouting like a little girl…you wanna talk to him, sweetheart?", he heard Merle sing out over the phone. Daryl rolled his eyes, and cracked his door open, as Merle carried the phone to him, like precious cargo, "It's your farmer's daughter…"_

_Daryl instantly smashed the phone to the side of his face, and frowned, "Yeah…"_

_"I need you to come get me. I'm…I'm on Swanson street."_

_"In A.T.L.?! How the hell..?", Daryl asked, instantly grabbing his boots from the ground. He tugged them onto his feet as he waited for her to answer him. Then the question rang through his head, "What the hell are you callin' me for?"_

_"Well…It's a long story, but…rather than tattle to my parents, can you or Merle come get me?"_

_"Nah. Call yer dad.", he said, quickly hanging up the phone._

_Merle whistled, as Daryl leaned his head down, tapping the phone against it. He looked down at his boots, unlaced, calling for him to stand up and get dressed. _

_"Alone in Atlanta. Mm Mm Mm…Take the truck. Go get 'er.", Merle said, finally, causing Daryl to glance toward him. He scoffed, and bit his lip._

_"Who said she's my problem?", Daryl complained, and Merle frowned a bit, before giving the best piece of advice he could._

_"What's 'er daddy gonna think when she tells him she called you first, hm?"_

_Sighing, Daryl rolled his eyes, and slipped his arms back into the sleeves of his shirt. _

* * *

_As the night drew on, and I carefully jogged past alleyways in the middle of the city, I regretted ever agreeing to the damn dance in the first place. It wasn't my style. It wasn't my scene. It was a horrible idea, and now, I was probably going to get raped and murdered in the city. As I stepped under the awning of a closed shop, I heard a rumbling. The unfamiliar engine perked my defense, and I pulled my keys from my purse, positioning one between two of my knuckles._

_"Get in…", Daryl croaked from the vehicle. My shoulders dropped a foot, as I turned, and returned my keys to their pocket. He didn't look at me, only rolled the window up, and waited patiently for me to jog around to the other side of the old truck. As I climbed in, he let out a breath, and sped off, quick to get out of the city._

_"Thanks for coming.", I whispered into the silent rumble of the truck. He brought a hand up, chewing his nails, but stayed quiet, "I'm sorry for earlier."_

_Still silent._

_"Say something."_

_"Shoulda stayed at the school…City's dangerous.", he mumbled, checking his side mirror. I nodded slowly, understanding that he was still pissed at me. That was my fault. I should have taken up for him. I should have treated him as the friend he had always been. Instead, I let him get run over._

_"I didn't wanna stay there any longer after what happened."_

_"Someone say somthin'? Make fun of yer stupid looking boots?", he insulted, but I sniggered, pulling my foot from under the dash. It was clad in a pair of Australian winter boots that cost more than a month of horse feed. I didn't really like them, but they went with the outfit. Daryl noticing was enough to lighten my mood._

_"Not quite. Nathan…He kissed me."_

_Scoffing, Daryl rolled his eyes, glancing out the window, "You know that's normal, right? I mean…for boys."_

_"He tried to force me to…like…have sex with him. Or at least that's what I got out of it. He was kissing me, and it hurt…and I scratched his face up, somethin' awful."_

_The joking was over. Daryl's eyebrows turned downward in a menacing glare as he stared at the road ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, wringing it out like a wet rag as he sped up. I didn't like this look._

_"…He turned me out after that."_

_"You hurt? D'he hurt you?", he asked, venom lacing his words. I couldn't tell if the anger was geared toward the idea of my dad finding out, or his own convictions._

_"Um. No. I'm fine. Cold, but fine.", I answered to his nodding head. As he turned onto our road, the impending doom began to rise in my stomach and I swallowed heavily, "I can't go home…"_

_"Huh?"_

_"I don't wanna go home, and have to deal with the pitiful looks and the 'I told you so'…I don't care where I go…a tent in the back yard…anywhere but home.", I whispered, looking down at my fingers. Daryl chewed at his lip, contemplating his next move, before he turned sharply, and headed for the old home he shared with Merle. I didn't question him, as the relief cured the gnawing in my stomach._

_"Merle's here. I don't know if he's drunk or not.", he explained carefully. I smirked a bit and nodded, exiting the truck as he did. I followed him up the steps and into the house, meeting Merle's smiling face the second the door opened._

_"Well! How you doin' tonight, sweetheart!"_

_"Can it Merle…", I snapped, causing his hands to rise to the sides of his head in feigned surrender. _

_"Easy now. Hold on just a minute…why're you in my house, anyway?"_

_"C'mon…ain't no sense in talkin' to his drunk ass.", Daryl said suddenly, grabbing my arm. He began dragging me down the hall, and I couldn't help the smirk that appeared. Merle made kissy faces, and derogatory motions with his hands, as we disappeared to the back of the house, "Asshole…"_

_"He seems in good spirits. I don't think you give him enough credit, Dare…"_

_He flinched at the nickname I gave him, but shrugged it off and rolled his eyes, "I think you and yer daddy give him way too much credit…Yon't live with him…"_

_"True…true…"_

_"You can have my room. It ain't that clean, but yer mom changed the sheets yesterday…", he said softly, and I smiled. My mom. She really was the greatest woman on the planet, and she loved Daryl, more than anyone on the planet._

_"I didn't know I was spendin' the night.", I answered truthfully, and he began to stumble on words. Great. I made him feel like a perv, again…_

_"I uh…You can do want you want. I'll take you home when yer ready. I just assumed."_

_"It's cool! I'll stay. Ain't like you got nothin' else to do, right?", I said cheerfully, hopping up onto the cleanly made bed. I could almost see him relax, as he kicked the door shut, to drown out Merle's drunken singing, "What do the Dixons do for fun, round here?"_

_"Nascar…Beer…Fighting…", he started, before giggling a bit. The smile was super refreshing, "Beer…"_

_"Sounds like a party."_

_"Better than 'homecoming'?", he mocked, his usual cocky smirk still hanging on his lips. I rolled my eyes._

_"I dunno. Depends on whether I can talk a Dixon into giving me that dance I missed."_

_"I don't dance…", he said quickly, crossing his arms. He looked down at his feet, his hat almost falling from the top of his head from the tilt._

_"Don't…or won't?"_

_"Neither."_

_I stood from the bed, grinning, and flicked on the little clock radio my mother had obviously bought him. It didn't match anything in the room, and was much newer than anything he owned. The fact that it possessed an iphone jack was enough to make me giggle lightly as I grabbed his hands._

_In his ragdoll nature around me, he allowed it. I pulled him forward, slowly running my hands up his arms, to his neck, and over the rim of his hat. That stupid…amish…hat. I flung the hat onto the bedpost and ruffled his messy hair. Obviously confused, he stood still, his muscles rigid, his eyes glued to the wall above my head._

_"Loosen up…", I whispered, pulling his hand up into position, while my other hand worked the opposite down to my waist. As if his body could tense any more, it did, even causing the vein in his neck to bulge a bit, "Dance with me."_

_I pulled him to the left, and pulled back to the right, as his body slowly relaxed enough to move with mine. Drawing close, I laid my forehead against his chin, and moved with the beat._

_"This is dancin'?", he whispered, his breath carrying through my hair a bit. I smiled, and nodded._

_"It's the basic principle…A reason for people to get close to one another."_

_"Hm.", he grunted, and my smile grew wider._

_As corny as it may sound, this would always be one of my favorite memories of him. He came to my rescue that night, and against every fiber of his being, he gave in, and gave me the last dance. There was something about the way his fingers tensed, every time a new song came on, and his breathing quickened. There was something about the way that my stomach fluttered around at the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne radiating from his collarbone. There was just something about him, that night._

_At this point, as unfortunate as it would turn out, it's safe to say that was the night I fell in love…with Daryl Dixon._


	21. Chapter 21: Shane

**A/N: I'm not quite as happy with this chapter as I had hoped. Things will pick up soon, because there's a huge time gap in the show, and not a lot of Daryl. So, I plan to have a lot of little gems for you guys to enjoy, as I flesh out Daryl in season 2, and head into the winter months in between 2 and 3. There was a lot of character development off screen for Daryl, both in season 2 and in between. I'll give you that, my way.**

**I hope you enjoy this for now. This will be the last chapter until late Tuesday afternoon. So, don't forget to REVIEW, and criticism is appreciated. :)**

**Love to all of you.**

* * *

Chapter 21: Shane

_"Hey…", I heard as my brain attempted to awaken. A hand slapped my foot, grabbing my big toe, and wiggled it back and forth. I half smiled, tugging my foot away from its attacker._

_"Mm…", was all that I could mutter, opening my eyes._

_"I'm goin' to work. You want a ride home, or what?", Daryl whispered, attempting to not wake Merle in the next room. I stretched, and sat myself up. My body was itchy and slightly aching from sleeping in my clothes, but I felt refreshed._

_"I'll just ride with you. Mom's gonna be pissed…", I complained, dragging my hair to the back of my head, and throwing a rubber band around it._

_He shook his head, a small smirk on his lips, "I already told her you decided to crash here. She just asked if you were alright…She ain't mad or nothin'."_

_"Really…", I said, rather than asked. With another nod, he grabbed his hat from the bedpost, and sat it on top of his head, "Thanks for…you know…helping out last night."_

_"Get dressed. Don't wanna be late.", he mumbled, and left the room. I let another sigh leave my lips, and stood from the bed with a wide stretch. With my boots still covering my sore feet, I left the room, a mess. Daryl was Daryl. He had his convictions. He was a good man, with a seemingly bad fate ahead of him. Watching him fight the fate off was rewarding, being a part of that was breathtaking. So, his silence was welcomed. Who needed words, anyway?_

* * *

"You alright? I was waitin' for you inside.", I heard Rick's voice say, and I quickly dried my eyes and looked up at him with a fake smile.

"I'm fine. I just…I just wanted to be alone to think."

"I saw Shane out here. Everything okay with you guys?", he asked. There it was. There was that question I was dreading. I didn't want to lie to Rick. I didn't want to look him in the eyes, while he was trying to help me, and lie to him, but I didn't trust Shane.

"Yeah. He was worried about my head. I don't even remember falling, really…", I said softly. Though, instead of the understanding look I expected from the older man, I received a narrowing of the eyes. It was a look I knew all too well, with nosey parents. He knew I was lying. He knew that something else was going on, but he knew that for whatever reason, I either couldn't, or wouldn't tell him. So, he raised his eyebrows, erasing all signs of suspicion from his face, and thrust a plate toward me.

"Well, I brought you that sandwich. You need to eat somethin' after being out all night.", he explained, and I took the plate, diverting my eyes from his, "Daryl's worried you're pulling away."

"He tattled to you? That's rich…I just wanted to be alone."

"After going missing for two days? Shan, he's been out looking for you…for Sophia. He's out right now, beating the bushes and…", I took a bite from the sandwich, but stopped chewing and swallowed, to interrupt him.

"You know, I appreciate everything. I do, but I don't know what you want me to do."

"I want you…", Rick said slowly, before cutting his words off, "I want you to take care of yourself, of Daryl. I want you to be a part of this…but on your terms."

"Then let me do it…on my terms, Rick. A lot happened last night. I watched a man get ripped to shreds, to protect me. I watched…", I stopped, before the words slipped from my lips, and took another bite of my sandwich. My hands had begun to shake, and Rick shifted from one foot to the other, placing his hands on his hips.

"If there's anything you wanna tell me…My ears are open.", he whispered, his fatherly tone causing me to meet his eyes. I nodded, slowly, and handed him the plate. Taking it, he began to turn, "Hershel wants to have a service for Otis. They asked if you would attend."

"I-I don't know…", I whispered, looking down at my hands.

Rick nodded, "You take your time. I'll check on you in a bit."

* * *

Daryl pulled an arrow from the neck of a deer, wiping it on his jeans. He smirked a bit, grabbing its legs, and began dragging it through the sparse woods. His insides jumped around at the idea of having venison, of having venison ready for Shan. She always loved wild game. She was one of the few women he knew that ate squirrel, willingly.

He smiled at the thought, but turned it into a frown, as soon as he dragged the deer into the open field, and was met by Rick.

"You need some help?"

"Nah. Ain't nothin' I ain't done b'fore.", Daryl said quickly, tugging the deer up to the tree beside his tent. He dropped it there, and pulled his knife, quickly opening the stomach to remove the guts.

"Alright, then. Hershel wants us to all come to the service for Otis…that means you, too."

"I'll make my way over there when I'm done with my deer. Shan up and around?", he asked, looking up at Rick momentarily.

"I don't know about that. She's not doin' too good.", Rick answered, and Daryl nodded.

"Might wanna ask Shane about all that…He seems…"

"I know. Just, finish up here. Let me take care of Shane…", Rick answered, and Daryl caught the definite tone of his voice, nodding his head slowly as he slung guts into the fire pit.

* * *

I crept to the well, retrieving my water bottle from the ground. As I leaned down to grab it, I drug my opposite hand across my pistol, as my mind wondered to earlier. It was times like this that I wished I were still stuck to Daryl's hip, like the last few months on the farm.

I kicked a bit of the mud around the water bucket, and contemplated the idea of going to the makeshift funeral. Was Shane going to be there? If so, what bullshit lie was he planning to tell Rick, and Otis' family? Would they look to me? Would he place the blame on me, by saying that Otis died to protect me? The running of thoughts almost knocked me off my feet.

I looked around the yard, for the first time taking in the expansive farm. It was laid out like ours, save the large area of wooded land that didn't lead to anything but the highway. The horses made noise and played in the background, and behind the nearest tree, I noticed a tent being erected. I tilted my head, trying to make out the person behind the tattered material. Soon, a head peeked out, throwing a rain tarp over the top of the dome with some effort.

"Hey…", I said softly, as I approached the camp. Daryl's eyes met mine, and he gave a small smirk.

"Rick said you were down for the count..", he answered with equal softness. He crossed his arms, and I nodded, looking the tent over. The doorway, I noticed, was directed toward the woods, toward my camp.

"I'm alright. What're you doing this far out?", I asked.

"Shit got cramped up there. Lots of women bitchin' and whinin' about everything. I couldn't take it. 'Sides, it ain't fair for you to get this plot to yerself."

A smile broke across my face. I knew the reason he was out here. Either Rick sent him, or he was worried, and moved on his own. I hoped for the latter.

"Well. I guess I wouldn't mind the company tonight."

"Ya always were scared of the dark…", he said softly, chewing the skin from his thumb. I sighed, suddenly feeling less anxious in his presence. No matter what Shane said, I was safe with Daryl.

"Rick came out earlier, said they were havin' some thing for Otis. You gonna go?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing. I mean…if you don't feel up to it…", Daryl started, and I waved a hand, cutting him off.

"Everyone needs to stop with the pity party. This family lost one of their own…", I started to say, before flashbacks ran through my head. They were intense, and made me want to vomit. Gripping my stomach, I frowned, and Daryl nodded.

"Let's go then."

* * *

"We gotta save the boy…", Shane acted out, tears in his eyes, stress in his voice. My hands were shaking against Daryl's side, as I itched to tell Patricia to her face that her husband had not gone down for Carl, under his terms. Her husband had been brutally gunned down, beaten, and fed to the walkers as if he was garbage.

Daryl watched Shane's show, glancing to my face every now and again as it changed from one shade of red to another. Shane took a deep breath, and gestured toward me, with his hand.

"He fought for her. When she fell, he realized that we weren't all going to make it out. He sacrificed…himself…", he said with an intense stare. Biting my lip, I closed my eyes tightly, and turned, walking away. I had to go somewhere, anywhere but here. I couldn't stand and watch him lie. I couldn't hold it in any longer.

* * *

Daryl crossed his arms, watching Shane's show. From the way everyone was reacting, they were either buying it, or they were just too nice to say anything, in fear of Shane. He glanced to Rick, as Shan's hand brushed against his elbow, shaking like a leaf. Rick was staring at Shane with the same intensity, their friendship giving Shane away. Rick could see right through him. So, Daryl decided to leave it alone, staring at the ground as Shane finished with a line about Shan. His eyes narrowed in a bit of annoyance. What was the point to that? As if she wasn't fucked up enough…

Shan's fleeting presence turned Daryl's head in worry. He gave another glance to Shane, meeting his eyes with a glare momentarily, and turned to follow her. He didn't know the dead guy. He was only needed for respect. He had paid his respect. Now it was his turn to take care of his own.

"Wait up, now…", he called out to her as she sped her pace up, her head down, headed straight for the stable. He knew that look. She was either planning to run off, or go viciously groom a horse until she fell out. Catching up to her, he grabbed her arm, turning her to him roughly, "I said wait…"

"Wait for what? For him to…to…", she started, and Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"For him to what?"

"Nothin'…", she whispered, crossing her arms across her chest, "I'm gonna go work on the stable…help out…"

"No yer not. Just…come back to camp."

"I…I can't be there, right now. I can't watch them walk around, mourning Otis' death, while Shane lies to their faces. I can't…I just can't Daryl…", chewing on his lip, Daryl decided it was the best time to ask.

"Shane killed him…Di'nt he?"

"No. Get the thought out of your head, Dare…", she murmured, breaking into a quiet sob as she pushed him away enough to start her walk to the stable.

"What'd he do to you? You either tell me…or…", he broke off, chewing his lip hard enough to draw blood, "...or I'll ask him myself…"

She stopped. Her hands balled into fists, and she turned. He had to admit that her facial expression made him nervous. Her fists being balled up, with that facial expression was intimidating, to say the least. He clenched his own fists, his arm muscles flexing with them.

"Fine. You wanna know? You wanna know how he drug me out like I was his last prayer on earth. You wanna know how he killed that man in cold blood, simply because he was tired of running? He was tired of me dragging him? So, he shot him in the kneecap. You wanna know how Rick coming to offer me lunch ended in a threat? I saw the whole thing, Dare…", she said quickly, somehow holding in the sob that was threatening every word, "He bashed my skull in, because I was going to kill him. I was going to put a bullet in his brain…and he bashed me in the face."

Daryl felt himself tense, his eyes wondering to her forehead. Shane had told a boldface lie to Rick, saying that she was wiped out by a curb. A curb had supposedly taken her out of commission for almost twenty-four hours. Shaking his head, he put his hands on his hips.

"That's not the best part. Oh no…", she stepped closer to him, "You want me to tell you how he came out, drug me into the woods, and unbuttoned my pants. How he ran his hands all over my body…and threatened to kill you? Is that what you want? What good does it do? What…fucking…good does it do for you to know?"

Daryl's mind began to race as he heard her out. It didn't do a damn bit of good for him to know these things. It just made him want to slit Shane's throat. No one would find him, after Daryl was done with him. He would simply disappear. The group would think he simply moved on. Shan was being herself. She was strong. Sometimes she was too strong.

He frowned, looking her dead in the eyes, and turned, without another word.

"Where you goin'?", she called after him. He replied with a simple, 'out'.

* * *

Confused, I watched Daryl walk away. He's the one who had asked for the truth. Maybe this was his new thing. When things hurt, he walked away from them, shut them out like they didn't exist. Letting the sob break from my throat, I turned in a circle, attempting to figure out what my next move could be. I wiped my eyes quickly, and followed him.

"Daryl…don't go. Stop…", I called out, carefully running to catch up with him. I made sure to keep myself from shedding many more tears as I approached, to keep his temper down, "Please stop…"

"I'm goin' out lookin'…", he said, as his pace quickened. I groaned internally and sped up, as well. I grabbed his hand, and it was quickly yanked from mine.

"You're going to Shane, aren't you? Daryl look at me. Daryl!", I attempted to slow him down, stop him, whatever I could as his pace quickened. He stopped by a tree, just long enough to lean his crossbow against it. I knew exactly where he was headed, as Shane stood, putting up his tent, "Daryl, no!"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!", he yelled suddenly, causing Shane to turn, just in time to catch a punch to the face. He stumbled back, followed closely by Daryl, who straddled him, and proceeded to bash his face in.

"Rick! RICK!", I screamed out, realizing that I couldn't stop this. Daryl would kill him. Rick sprinted up, T-dog close beside him, and instantly speared Daryl off of Shane, onto the ground, pinning his arms above his hand.

"Let me go! You can't control him! You can't! Do you have any idea what he did?!", Daryl struggled, as T-dog removed his knife from its holster, and Rick laid his body weight against his chest.

"I know. Daryl, look at me. I…know…", Rick whispered to him, drawing himself close to Daryl's face. I could hear Daryl's breathing, as Shane stood and wiped the blood from his mouth. He glanced to me, raising a single finger to point straight at my face, before pushing past me to find Hershel. Rick released Daryl, helping him to his feet.

"You ain't gonna do nothin'?", Daryl asked Rick, his eyes almost begging the older man to go after Shane, to blow his brains out, to do anything but stand back and let this happen.

"Not yet. I know Shane…better than anybody. I go all sheriff now, and whatever has happened…will get worse. You want that?"

"I want you to give me five minutes alone with him…", Daryl whispered, straightening his vest a bit.

"That ain't gonna happen."

"Go screw yerself…", Daryl snapped, pushing past all of us. As he passed T-dog, he snatched his knife from the outstretched hand, shoving it back into his holster, and began the trek back to our camp. I caught Rick's eyes, as my own teared up. It seemed all I could do, anymore, was cry. I wasn't cut out for this world, but I was too proud to leave it…to leave Daryl.

I turned to follow Daryl, tearing my eyes from Ricks.

"Daryl…"

"Stop followin' me like a damn puppy!", Daryl snapped, turning on me so fast that I ran into him, trampling his feet. So, we were back to this. I took a step back, and stared straight into his eyes.

"Was that necessary?", I asked. His eyes rolled, and he placed a hand on his hip.

"What? Takin' care of you?"

"I don't need you to take care of me, Dare…", I whispered, my eyes devoid of tears.

"Like you didn't need me in Atlanta? Like you didn't need me…", he stopped, seeing the shocked look on my face, and scoffed, "…hell with ya. I don't need this."

"No…Do NOT walk away from me…", I ordered him, causing his eyes to narrow, "It's okay, Dare. I'm okay."

"Yer NOT OKAY!", he screamed, his voice carrying across the entire yard as he drew close to my face, his lips dangerously close to mine. I stared straight ahead, waiting for his breathing to slow down, "YOU ALMOST DIED WHILE YOU WERE AWAY! And then that son of a bitch…That…I ain't gonna sit back and watch you go down like that…"

"Then don't…", I whispered, "But I can't watch you go down, either. I've lost everything. I have nothing…"

His breathing slowed, as he stared at me. The blue of his eyes seemed silver, as he calmed, and his forehead touched mine. I brought a hand up, twisting a strand of his growing hair around my finger.

"All I got…", he whispered, closing his eyes in what I had to assume was the first true rest he had had in days. I smirked. He was still Daryl. This world made people like Shane. This world hardened good people, made them into soldiers. Daryl already had the soldier in him, from his life at home. Without someone to hold onto, this world would harden him, too.

His shoulders relaxed, and I picked his hands up, "You should get some rest."

"I'm gonna go out…look for the girl. I want ya to stay close to Rick…'way from the asshole.", he murmured. I nodded carefully.

"Stay safe, please.", I whispered.

"Worry bout yerself.", he answered, placing a soft kiss against my forehead. He turned, and stomped across the yard, swiping his crossbow on the way by.

* * *

"Daryl! Wait up…", Rick called after Daryl, as he stomped through the gravel, a smirk still playing on his face. He rolled his eyes, turning to deal with the confrontation, "Where you goin'?"

"Out.", Daryl answered.

"You don't owe us anything. You know that, right?"

Daryl rolled his eyes again, and gestured toward Shane's tent, "Muh other plans fell through."

With that, he disappeared into the woods. At that point, he wondered if he should just move his tent into the trees. It tended to be the only place where people would leave him the hell alone.


	22. Chapter 22: After the Storm

**A/N: I'm so sorry it's almost been 2 weeks again. PreCalculus has been kicking my ass with multiple exams during the week. This chapter was originally going to be named 'Cherokee Rose', but I decided this name was better for it, since this is Shan and Daryl's story. **

**I don't exactly like how it turned out, but it sets us up for 'Chupacabra', which I think you'll all love. If you don't like sappy Daryl, skip this chapter. There's not a whole lot of season 2 plot, here, just some sweetness. :)**

**I'll try to have the next chapter up within DAYS. I promise, this time.**

**R&R!**

* * *

Chapter 22: After the Storm

As I turned from Daryl, I sighed, internally hating the idea of him going back into the woods after his fight. Sure, he wasn't hurt, but I knew what happened when his adrenaline pumped. He became careless, and tended to get himself into tight places…places he might not survive alone. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I brought my water bottle up and took a long drink from it, wiping my mouth afterward.

"Shan…", I heard from behind me. The voice was unmistakable. Shane wanted a word with me. With Rick nowhere around, I couldn't let that happen. I quickly recapped the water, and drew my gun, pulling the hammer back as I rounded the back of the RV.

The crunching of gravel stopped for a second, as Shane halted his stomping. He stood, in my mind, with his hands on his hips for a few seconds, before turning and walking back toward the house. As he walked, I overheard Rick discussing something with him.

I let out a long sigh, and lowered the hammer of my Python slowly, before running a hand down my face.

"You look spooked…", a female voice rang out from behind me. I jerked a bit, turning on her with wide eyes. Oh. It was only Carol.

"Nah. I'm alright. How are you holding up?", I asked softly, stuffing the gun back into my pants as I walked up to the laundry pail, and grabbed one of Daryl's torn up shirts. Carol was quiet. That was her answer. She was dealing, but she was on the edge of mental disaster. I felt for her. The image of her daughter…turning into one of those things was devastating to me, and she wasn't even mine. I didn't even know her. Giving her a friendly smile, I draped the shirt over the line above me, and pinned it down.

"I want to thank you, since he probably wouldn't take the gesture, from me. I want to thank you for trying…for Sophia. I want to thank you for Daryl, as well…", she spoke in a voice that was almost as broken as her poor eyes. She pursed her lips tightly, and threw a couple of socks over the line, "He's so good. I don't understand…why he doesn't see that…"

"I think he does. I just don't think he wants to.", I replied as I handed her one of Sophia's tshirts. I felt almost guilty for the gesture, but even more so by the sob that followed, "I know him, though. I know…he wants to do this. He's doing this for her…to bring her back to you."

She wiped her eyes a bit, placing her last pin on the shirt. She picked up the bucket and turned to walk away from me.

"Carol…", I whispered, grabbing her arm. She stopped, met my eyes with her own bloodshot ones, "I bet he finds her…today. I bet…I bet she'll come back, and she'll want some supper and a warm bed."

I gave a warm smile, as her own lips curled into a small grin.

"How about we make sure she has one? We could fix up the RV…make it a home. I'm sure Dale wouldn't mind.", I finished. As I waited for her response, my stomach dropped. I was giving hope where there probably was none. Sophia had been missing for days, now. As much as I hated to admit it…there wasn't much hope to be given.

"I'd like that…", Carol whispered, finally. With a small nod, I opened the door to the RV for her, and followed her inside.

* * *

Daryl exited the woods, surprised, but thankful to find a small house on the other side of the tree cover. He wiped his dirty hand across his equally filthy forehead, and pressed forward. The grass was tall, and bugs jumped in every direction as his worn boots stomped their fortress down. With the same stomping, he cleared the steps to the house, and took a deep breath. As he shoved the door of the house open, he was met with the smell of rotting trash, and a gas line rupture. He hoped, deep inside that he wouldn't find Sophia here. There was no telling what shape she was in, if she had been here. Taking another deep breath, he began clearing rooms, one by one.

The house had already been trashed, presumably by the people who had lived in it. They split pretty quickly, and took what they could. The windows had been broken out…probably during a storm. He noticed everything, from the trail of ants leading to the trashcan, to the smell that radiated from the overflowing plastic heap.

Reaching the trash, he picked up the tin on the top, raising it to his nose. The smell was terrible, telling him that the can had been opened, and lying here for days. It was the perfect lead. He raised his crossbow, turning to the pantry, where a blanket peeked from under the door. He almost began to shake, thinking of finding her here. The thought of being the one to bring her back to her mother, to give her a life she hadn't been able to live almost made him shiver with excitement. His fingers hooked around the door, and he threw it open, revealing the empty makeshift bed on the floor. The confined space, mixed with the small amount of food that had been eaten gave him hope.

Quickly, he sprinted outside, crossbow across his back, so as to not scare her.

"Sophia!", he called out, circling the house once. Nothing. Crushed and defeated, he began his trek back to the woods, dreading the look on Carol's face when he returned. She would be devastated to know that he had failed, again.

That's when it caught his eye. The Cherokee Rose.

Slowly, he crept up to it, as if it would fly away like a butterfly, if he wasn't quiet. He looked it over, making sure that he had remembered the flower from his time on the farm, correctly. It was something that Shan's father had taught him, along with a lot of other random things on their walks. The story of the Cherokee Rose was one of his favorites…but in this case, maybe it could spark a little hope. Carefully, he picked one, taking much of its vine with it, and slid it into his breast pocket, before heading back through the woods.

* * *

Placing the final dish in its spot, I smiled to Carol, who was finishing a story about the time she took Sophia, and gathered the courage to leave Ed. She mentioned that it was the best weekend she had ever had, and she had never seen Sophia glow as much as she did at that zoo. Instead of sadness, the recollection seemed to calm her. I could tell by the look in her sad eyes.

"I can't wait to see her on a horse…I think she'd be a natural.", I whispered, keeping the conversation going.

"Oh…She loved horses…", Carol mused, staring out the window, "She had pictures of them on almost everything: notebooks, posters, you name it."

"I'll teach her to ride. She'll be great…Daryl is great with them, too. He had this horse, back on our farm, biggest thing you ever saw. He was a gentle giant. He was Daryl's best friend."

Carol's face softened, and she sat her dishtowel down on the counter, "You're lucky to have each other. I can tell, better than anyone, when someone's had a rough life. He's one of those men that if he doesn't find a good woman to take care of him…he'll end up just like his daddy…You're lucky to have each other."

"I don't take care of him…Nobody takes care of Daryl, but Daryl."

"I don't believe that. You shoulda seen him before he found you. He was ready to fight a tree that crossed him the wrong way; cussin' and mouthin' off to everyone. Then, something changed. He's quieter…sweeter even. I think you make him a man. I think his brother was his weakness…and you're…his muse.", she smiled at her choice of words, running a hand down the side of my face, pushing my hair behind my ear. We stood there in silence, as I thought over the words she had just spoken to me. I had never thought of it that way, but I liked it. I liked the idea of being needed, of being someone's reason for being themselves. I hated, however, what Merle seemed to have become.

"We went to the highway, this morning.", she spoke up, suddenly, "Before the funeral…and all the chaos. We took some food out to the cars. I don't think she would go there, but at least we did, right?"

She was asking me for a sign of reassurance. All I could give her was a subtle nod, which was returned.

"This place looks nice. I think she'll love it."

"I hope so.", she whispered, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She picked up a blanket, unlacing a needle from it, and began sewing.

"Project of yours?", I asked. I didn't know Carol very well, but I wanted to. She reminded me a lot of my mama. Her attitude, her love for her daughter…for Daryl; It all screamed my mother. I was already attached.

"Not really. Dale's wife…she never finished it. I figured…what else I got to do, right? So, I'm gonna finish it for him."

"It's beautiful. I can't wait to see what it looks like when it's finished. I'm…um…I'm gonna go check and see if Daryl's made it back yet. You gonna be alright?", I asked, looking out the window, toward the woods.

"Not like I'm goin' anywhere.", she said with a small smile. I knew that smile. My mama gave it to me every chance she got. It was the 'go have fun' smile. Nodding, I turned and exited the RV, only to run into Daryl, full on. He was holding a beer bottle, stuffed with a beautiful white flower, "Hey…"

"Where's Carol?", he asked in a small voice, chewing his lip.

"She's inside, getting some rest. She's doing pretty good today…You okay?", I asked, looking him over. He looked pretty okay.

"Fine. I just…I just wanted to touch bases with her, is all. I didn't find nothin'."

I touched his arm softly, squeezing it with a simple sad look of pity. He needed to say no more. He was devastated, and his eyes told the whole story. I knew what the flower was for. I knew what this search meant to him, more and more every day. I ran my fingers across the soft petals, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"She's gonna love the flower.", I whispered, moving to let him into the RV, "I'll meet you back at camp for supper, okay?"

Still chewing his lip, he entered the RV, and I turned, headed to make camp perfect for him, tonight.

* * *

As Daryl entered the RV, he fought the urge to smile. The place was spotless. Ever dish was in a proper place. Every paper was organized in its own place. It was a small home. He figured that was either Shan's idea, or something the women came up with, together, in hopes that Sophia would return with him. He sighed away the urge to run away, and pushed through the tight corridor, to the back room.

Carol didn't meet his eyes, only glanced at him, before returning to her sewing. Shy as he was, Daryl took the beer bottle from behind his back, and sat it on the television stand. He turned it, making sure that the bloom of the rose was pointed toward Carol, to show her its beauty.

"A flower?", she asked, looking up from the blanket.

"A Cherokee Rose. Shan's dad…he used to take me out on these walks, and he would tell me stories. Merle and me…we fought all the time, and he…well…anyway.", Daryl scratched his neck, pointing to the rose, "He told me this story. When settlers were pushing the Cherokees from their land…The mothers would lose their babies. Back then everyone was dyin' from…from starvation, exposure, disease. The story goes: The native women would weep for their babies, and the elders prayed for anything, a sign to help lift the mothers spirits, give them hope. The next day…this rose started to grow where the mothers' tears fell."

He broke off, wincing at the tears that fell from Carol's eyes, "I'm ain't fool enough to believe there's any flower growin' for my brother. But, I think this one grew for your little girl…"

He waited a second, waiting for a sign that he had done well, or waiting for her to scream at him, or call him a piece of shit for the gesture. Instead, she gave a thankful smile, "Thank you…"

He nodded, looking down at the floor as he turned, and walked toward the door. At the door, he stopped, frowned, biting his lip, and turned, "She's really gonna like it in here…"

* * *

I lifted my entire tent from the ground, stakes stuffed into my jeans, and carried it to where Daryl's was set up. While my set up didn't look as nice as his, I managed to get it staked down, and proper. I smirked at my handy work, also rolling over the large log I had been sitting on. Now, this was home.

As I waited for Daryl to return, I glanced inside his tent. I took note of where his pillow was situated, where he was keeping his stashed food and ammo, and turned back to my own tent. I moved my pillow, pressing it against the wall, until it lightly brushed against his, through the thin membranes that separated them. The small detail would make my life a lot easier at night, knowing that he was only a centimeter from me.

"What's all this?", he called from outside, dropping his crossbow against a tree. I couldn't tell from his tone of voice what he thought of the set up, but as I glanced out, his grin told everything.

"Carol has a point…I need you. You need me."

"What're you tryin' to say?", he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I need you…", I repeated, "So, I wanna be as close as possible, if that's alright with you. I don't feel safe all the way over there, anymore."

"Don't make me no nevermind. Ya never did snore…", he said in a joking manner, which caused my shoulders to drop in relief. Maybe there was some hope left for him. He was joking.

He crouched in front of my tent, looking it over with a disgusted look on his face. With a quick push, he shoved me to one corner, and scooped up my pillow and blankets in his arms.

"What are you doin'?", I asked, as he carried them to the other tent, and threw them down.

"Cheap ass tent…It's startin' to get cold…Shut up and take it.", he snapped in a playful way. I grinned.

"We're movin' in together now? That's a big step…What's next, a ring?"

"Shut up…", he mumbled, spreading the stuff out into one large bed. I wasn't complaining. Nope…not one bit.

* * *

Later that night, the farm was plunged into darkness. The only light in the entire area was a campfire here and there. Our own fire looked massive, compared to any that we had been able to build in the past. I clutched my elbows tightly as the fall air began to bite through the thin clothing I was wearing. Daryl wore only a flannel shirt to protect his muscular frame. I could only imagine how cold he got at night, but he wasn't exactly one to complain.

"You cold?", he called across the fire to me. I shrugged, and he stood from his perch, grabbing a jacket from the handlebar of his motorcycle. It was a denim jacket with leather sleeves, and before he ever handed it to me, I knew it would be warm. He draped it around my shoulders roughly, and stomped away to stoke the fire again, "We should hit the hay soon…I'm goin' out in the mornin'…"

"Dare…Don't you think you should rest?"

"I'm just goin' out. I'll be back by lunch. I ain't leavin' that little girl to her own devices out there…She's comin' home…", he said definitely. It wasn't a snap. It was a defense. I looked down at the ground, annoyed, but understanding his stance, and nodded.

"Fine, but…Please be careful. I can't lose you…Carol…Carol can't lose you…", I stammered out, sighing, "And take a horse. You know the woods, but…you'd have an easier escape on a horse, and you know it."

"Alright then. You gotta promise me somethin' too."

"What's that?", I asked, a little curious.

"You'll…stop worryin' so much. I can't be out there all worried about you being worried…ya know?"

I nodded, "I can do that. I'll help with the farm, groom the horses, pass some time till you get back."

Silence engulfed us, as we both stared into the fire. The tension hung in the air, like a million things were left unsaid. That's because…between us…there were a million things we wanted to say. The way he bit his lip, crossed his arms, scratched his chin; He had something to say.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed. Which side do you want?"

"I'll take the door.", he answered. I should have known the answer. Even when he would spend nights at the farm, his paranoia caused him to sleep closest to the door, with a hand draped over the edge of the bed, ready and willing to pull that knife from under the pillow. I wouldn't complain. I felt safer that way. Standing, I took the two steps leading to the tent, and crawled inside, lying on the hard ground closest to the back wall. I noticed that the window, pointing toward Rick's camp, was also down, as if Daryl wanted to keep an eye on things. I simply stared at the figures moving around. These people were my family. As much as he would never admit it; These people were Daryl's family, now, too.

The tent shivered a bit as Daryl entered and threw himself onto the makeshift bed. Instantly, I felt warmer, as his trembling arm pressed against my back. That was another quirk of Daryl's that you had to get used to. He was always trembling. Even in complete safety, his body seemed to vibrate, until the moment he fell asleep and began whispering and mumbling in his dreams. I turned over, changing my position boldly, to lay my head on his shoulder.

"I'm proud of you.", I whispered softly, wrapping an arm around his chin, to play with his wispy sideburn on the other side. Unlike normal, he didn't flinch.

"I ain't done nothin' yet. Be proud of me when that little girl is sleepin' in the RV."

"What you did for Carol, Dare. I'm proud of you. I just am…", I murmured, and his body shifted, turning away from the door toward me, toward my eyes. I didn't falter as a trembling hand pulled the blanket up over us, and then rested against my hip.

"Thanks, I guess. She reminds me…", he started before going quiet. I nodded, though.

"Of my mom. I know.", I finished for him.

"So you know why I gotta do this, then."

"Same reason I'll be right here…every day when you get back. I'll make sure they save you dinner…", I said softly with a smile. He scoffed a bit, his blue eyes illuminated in the flickering of the fire. Then I was reminded of where I was. I was lying on his arm, the closest we had been in weeks. He was relatively calm. He wasn't angry or vengeful. He was the messy haired, sleepy Daryl I knew too well. Slowly, I leaned up, and placed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. I didn't expect it to be returned. I just wanted to.

He said nothing in return, made no move, except to pull me closer. His head pressed against the side of mine, his whiskers scraping against the skin like sandpaper, and his breathing began to slow into a sleepy rhythm.

"You 'member that song you used to sing…that…storm song?"

"The one I sang by the pond? Of course you were spying on me…", I whispered, and I felt his chest quiver in a small giggle.

"You still 'member the words? I liked that one…", he whispered again into the darkness, and I nodded against the side of his face, beginning to sing the song of hope. When I was in trouble with myself, it was a song that brought me out of the deepest pits of my depression, and now…Daryl was using it as a way to tell me something. I could read it.

Eventually, this would all be over. Eventually, if it killed him, I would see happiness again. Sighing, I started the first verse, and sang him to sleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

"After the Storm" by Mumford and Sons

And after the storm,  
I run and run as the rains come  
And I look up, I look up,  
on my knees and out of luck,  
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day  
You must know life to see decay  
But I won't rot, I won't rot  
Not this mind and not this heart,  
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand  
And we stood tall,  
And remembered our own land,  
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew  
I saw exactly what was true  
But oh no more.  
That's why I hold,  
That's why I hold with all I have.  
That's why I hold.

And I won't die alone and be left there.  
Well I guess I'll just go home,  
Oh God knows where.  
Because death is just so full and man so small.  
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.


	23. Chapter 23: Chupacabra

**A/N: Favorite Chapter I've written so far. It's also the most canon so far, with Daryl. This is one of two chapters I'm posting. I wanted it to be one huge chapter, but it didn't work. So, I hope you enjoy Chupacabra from inside Daryl's mind. I'm proud of it.**

**I'm also taking recommendations for upcoming chapters. Just PM me your ideas. You might spark something spectacular in my mind lol**

**ReviewReviewReview!**

* * *

Chapter 23: Chupacabra

An excruciating itch woke me, as I slapped the mosquito gnawing away at my cheek. It was daylight, I noticed fairly quickly, and I ruffled my hair a bit. The warmth from Daryl's body heat was gone. All that was left was me, the sun, and the familiar smell of cigarette smoke tainted leather, draped over my body. Daryl was gone. He had left, and the morning had apparently been cold enough to make him paranoid, because I was wrapped tightly in the blanket, and secured with his jacket. His revolver, and mine lay on his pillow, along with a small purple flower. I smiled sleepily at the gesture, and sat up.

The camp was rather quiet. It was either because everyone was out scouting, or because everyone was dealing with their own tensions and jobs. I slipped my boots onto my feet and unzipped the front of Daryl's worn tent, stepping out onto the wet grass.

Sitting not too far from the doorway was a bucket of peaches, and a small mason jar of milk. Smiling, my stomach growled in anticipation of the breakfast Daryl had prepared for me. I grabbed the jar, and cracked it open, chugging the milk. As expected, my stomach thanked me, quieting itself in satisfaction. I loved this place…

* * *

Daryl glanced down from his place atop the nervous horse. He was forced to shush the damn thing at least every couple of seconds, to keep from being thrown. Wonderful choice of horses…

Lying amongst the rocks, at the end of a stream, was a tattered ragdoll. Even from this high up, he could make out the shape, and a wave of hope flew through him. He slowly climbed down from the horse, and slid his way down the hill, to the waterside.

The water was muddy, and oddly enough, it made him think of the farm, back in Senoia. If there was anything he loved, it was the water. Swimming, watching Shan swim, fishing…it all sounded real nice, right about now.

As he tromped through the ankle deep water, he kept his eyes on the doll, reaching to pick it up. There was no blood, no sign of life around: Just the doll. He rang the water out, and looked around the area.

"Sophia!", he yelled out, stuffing the doll in the back of his jeans. If he did find her, the doll would be some sort of comfort, he hoped. After a few seconds of waiting for an answer, he climbed back up the hill, still trying to keep a bit of hope alive. Maybe she was further up stream, and had simply dropped the doll.

"Shh, now…", he whispered to the horse, who seemed even more skittish than before. Her attitude caused him to look around him, fearing that walkers were somehow sneaking up. Turning the horse in a complete circle, he stayed quiet, his trained eyes and ears searching the quiet woods, like an animal. Slowly, he urged her forward, holding the reigns tightly as her muscles tightened under his legs.

* * *

"Hey, you…", Glenn said softly, taking a seat beside me as I finished off my last peach. He glanced over the top of the basket and scoffed, "I filled that basket this morning. You hungry?"

I gave a small laugh, tossing the pit into the fire, "Starved. Best meal I've had in over a month…How are you doing?"

"Good. I'm…I'm good. I need your advice on something... You know Maggie?", he asked, and I turned with my eyes narrowed, pulling my Python from its spot beside me. I laid it open, and began refilling its revolver, nodding to him, "We had sex…"

I stopped, my mind wrapping around the words, and then smirked. Glenn got some. Nice…

"Congratulations…", I murmured, a smirk on my face. He scoffed, something in my words either offending, or surprising him. Maybe I was off, this morning.

"No…You don't understand…", he sighed, "Is it normal for girls to be…mean, afterward?"

"Define mean.", I mumbled, picking up one of Daryl's stray arrows from beside my foot. I drew little shapes in the dirt, suddenly bummed. Maybe this was the boredom, or maybe it was me being with a Dixon, again. They did tend to rub off on you.

"Like, not talking to me at all. She acts like she's…not interested."

"She's playin' with you. The more you pester her, the more she's gonna do it. Play her back…She'll jump your bones…", I explained, placing a hand on his knee, "That all that happened?"

"Pretty much. Where's Daryl?"

"I think he went out. He left a gun, and breakfast. Rick and Shane gone?", I asked in return, receiving a nod, "I think I'm gonna work the stables. I don't see anyone out there…Horses must be miserable."

"Be careful out there alone. If you need anything…"

"I'll be fine. Thanks.", I murmured, a little distant. I regretted it a bit, immediately.

"I know Daryl's here. I know you're all about keeping him on his…good guy track, but remember that there are people who need you, besides him…", he said, his feelings hurt. He stood and stalked away. I lowered my head with a sigh, and stood, placing my gun in my pants. I leaned down, ducking into the tent quickly, and grabbed Daryl's jacket and vest, slinging them around my back, as I started my long walk to the stables.

* * *

The horse continued to creep forward as Daryl reluctantly remained on her back. The path was narrow, and on either side of it was a deep ridge. The idea of falling down the ridge made his stomach turn.

As if queued, a flock of crows burst from a bush, next to him, causing the horse to rear a bit, but with a little shushing, she calmed and carried on. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his legs to her sides, but it did no good. Under her feet, a Copperhead slithered away, violently, and that was her breaking point. She reared, Daryl riding her like a bull rider at a rodeo. After the third time of rearing, and his calls to her not helping, he had to make a decision. He could either roll off to one side, and take his chances, or he could stay on, and MAYBE she would calm. Then again, she could take them both down the ridge…

As he though over his decision, she bucked forward, and then back. The action was too fast for his skill, and he was flung over the side, smashing into the ground. He grabbed for trees, roots, anything to stop himself from falling further down the ridge. It was no use. The longer he fell, the faster he fell, until he was rolling, like a stone. He hit something, on the way down, and screamed out a bit. The pain in his left side was excruciating, and from the pulsating around it, he already knew he was bleeding profusely.

As he reached the bottom of the ridge, he slid down a small waterfall, and slammed against the rocky bottom of the shallow river. He stayed still for a second, staring up at the sun, as the pain washed over him, almost blacking him out.

"Son of a bitch…", he complained, reaching down to his side, to touch the culprit. Fear washed over him as he realized…one of his bolts was there. It was shoved through the skin, through the muscle and flesh, and from the feeling, it was deep. He groaned, fighting the urge to pull at it, and lay back against the rocks.

* * *

I picked up a bale of hay, letting out a loud grunt as I hoisted it onto the fence, and off into the corral. Both horses inside snorted in appreciation, starting their slow walk to the awaiting snack. I smirked, "You're welcome…", before turning to enter the stable. Without work, this could be a long day, but with work, this was going to be an exhausting day.

What if Daryl came back injured? What if he came back missing something? Worse…What if he didn't come back? I remembered back to the night before. He had promised to be back before lunch. I stepped back out the door and looked up at the sun, briefly. It was just to my left…It was about 11:00 am…

"You got an hour, Dixon…", I mumbled to myself, grabbing a bridle from the wall, as I re-entered.

* * *

"C'mon, man…Get up…", Daryl hissed to himself, sitting, and then standing with a loud groan. Every move he made twisted and pulled at the bolt, pushing it further in, and then pulling it back. He took a deep breath, looking around for his crossbow. It was nowhere to be found, "Dammit…"

He pulled his knife, sliding it through the left sleeve of his shirt, and then the right, before ripping them both from his arms. He tied them together in a makeshift tourniquet and wrapped the bolt tightly, securing it to his body.

He lifted a large stick, and began looking for it. The water was rather clear, and the crossbow stuck out like a red flag against the muddy bottom, but he couldn't risk getting the wound any wetter. The water where he had fallen was still cloudy, and red. He had lost a lot of blood, and he needed to get back to that horse, if it was still around.

He lifted the crossbow with the stick, throwing it back onto his back in a struggled motion, and groaned, finally able to glance up at the ridge. Either he had fallen down a shorter side, or he had fallen much further than he thought. The ridge was massive, and almost straight up. Grasping the stick, he began the climb.

Every foot was a little more painful. The scorpions and fire ants were thoroughly enjoying the activity of making his life hell, as they swarmed him, chewing and stinging on his arms and legs with every bit of ferocity they had in them. Every tree limb he grabbed was covered in something that wanted to sabotage him, and his mission to make it back to his horse…back to the farm, before he bled out. Testing an area with his stick, he realized that unless he found a different route, to the side, he would never make it. The ground was too hard.

He pulled, attempting to hoist himself to the right side of the tree. Failing, he took a few deep breaths.

"C'mon…You made it halfway…Stop bein' such a pussy…", he muttered to himself, pulling again. As his body weight began relying on the tree for support, its roots gave way. He grabbed, tugged, and clawed, but couldn't stop his body from falling with it, back down to the bottom of the ridge, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

The hour passed by with speed unimaginable. I stepped out of the stable, wiping my sweaty forehead, and checked the sun, again. It was front and center, above my head, signaling that it was time for Daryl to return. I looked out across the clearing, hoping that, right on time, his sweaty head would pop up from the tree line.

Nothing.

"C'mon Daryl…", I groaned, biting my lip a bit. I sighed heavily, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet as I waited. I could either go after him, and risk harming myself, or I could stay back, and hope that he wasn't lying dead in the woods. The feeling plaguing my stomach wanted me to do a little of both. It wanted me to send someone out to find him…whatever was left of him.

I wiped my forehead again, my hands beginning to shake. My terrible mood was only magnified, and I slammed the hand down against my hip, running back into the stable to fetch a horse.

* * *

The sun burned into the side of Daryl's face, as he lay in the mud. He opened his eyes, blinking against the haze that seemed to cover them. As he blinked it away, he made out a figure, looming above him. Narrowing his eyes, a set of yellowing teeth beamed, "Why don't you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better."

"Merle…", Daryl whispered, his eyes fluttering. The blood loss was causing some extreme drowsiness that he couldn't fight off, if he tried.

"What's goin' on here? You takin' a siesta or somethin'?"

"Girl. They lost a little girl…", Daryl replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"Ah. You got a thing for little girls now? I always wondered…"

"Shut up…", Daryl reached a hand up, grabbing for Merle's shirt. He waved all around, finding nothing. He let his hand drop heavily back to the ground as Merle continued. Daryl couldn't make out everything he said, only bits and pieces as his hand waved in the sun.

"If you had any balls in that sack of yours…you'd go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face, for me.", Merle sneered, "They ain't your blood…your kin. That girl…she ain't yours to have, lil brother. You listen to me. Ain't nobody gonna care bout you except me…ain't nobody ever will. You don't see her ass out here helpin'…C'mon. Get up, before I have to kick yer teeth in. C'mon…lets go…"

As Merle yanked on Daryl's foot, the tugging shook him awake. He looked up at the tree line, before drawing his eyes down to the walker, chewing away on his boot. That was enough to shake him up. He drew the foot, kicking the walker in the side of the face. As it rolled off of him, he crawled back against the ridge, as he was attacked again. It was time to fight like a Dixon.

He drew a fist back, knocking the walkers jaw in half, straddled it, and drew his walking stick he had dropped. He grabbed both sides of the stick, bringing the middle section down with a loud scream. To his left, another walker approached, and Daryl groaned, acting quick.

He lay back on his back, as Merle giggled in the background, and grasped the shaft of the bolt protruding from his stomach. He pulled, and pulled, screaming out in pain, until the fletching broke free, tearing the skin around it sloppily. The sob that followed hurt his throat, as he grabbed the crossbow, and pulled with his entire strength to secure the string.

"C'mon boy! Pull…Pull, you little pussy!", Merle screamed from somewhere, as the string latched into place. Daryl placed the bloody bolt onto the rest, and lifted the crossbow to the approaching walker's head, piercing the skull with precision. As the growling ceased, he fell back onto the ground, bleeding and exhausted, and fell back into a deep sleep.

* * *

I mounted the horse, holding the reigns tightly as it moved beneath me. It was nervous, and I could feel in its muscles that it was tempted to rise up. I was ready for it. I had ridden enough horses to handle nerves.

"C'mon baby girl…", I cooed, tapping my heels against the horse's side. Even though she was nervous, she turned, bucked a bit, and began to trot away from the fence. I reached down, unchaining the gate, and shoved it open for us to make our way through, "This way…c'mon…"

I guided her toward the woods, before a voice called out, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Hey, hey hey!", Rick called out to me, and I sighed, turning the horse to face him, "Where are you goin'?"

"Daryl said he'd be back before lunch. It's lunch…I'm goin' after him."

"No you're not.", Rick said simply.

"You can't stop me, Rick. My terms, remember?"

"I remember…but you're not goin'.", he demanded again, stepping up to the horse. He grabbed the side of the bridle, guiding the horse toward himself.

"You CAN'T stop me!"

As my voice rose, Rick stopped, staring at me with wide eyes, and furrowed eyebrows. I had hurt his feelings. Honestly, I didn't care. I tore the bridle from his hand, and in return, he pulled the hammer of his Python back.

"You gonna shoot me, now?"

"No…but the horse can't run, missin' a leg…", he threatened. I turned, glaring at him. His face held no sign of a bluff.

"What do you expect me to do? He's never been late a day in his life…Somethin' is wrong…"

"Then let us take care of it. If he's not back by sundown, I'll go after him, myself…", Rick explained, holding a hand out. I rolled my eyes, and turned the horse from him, kicking its sides to return it to the corral. Screw Rick…

* * *

Once again, the sun woke Daryl from his injury-induced sleep. He groaned, staring up at it, and moved his crossbow to the side of his chest. It was time to either climb, or die. He would either make it up the hill, or he would bleed out, right here.

Sitting up, he looked around him, thinking over what Merle had said, and what still lay ahead for him to accomplish. What he wouldn't give for a warm bed…

He pulled off the remnants of his shirt, folding it into a pad. With gritted teeth, he placed the pad over the seeping wound, and tightened the tourniquet. The wound seemed a bit better, already, without the bolt tugging and moving around with every inch of his own movement.

"Sumbitch was right…", he muttered, finishing the knot. He picked his crossbow up and slid down the rock, back to the water. It was then that he remembered the squirrel he killed at the top of the ridge. Smirking, he pulled it from the back of his jeans. It was soggy, and had been scraped against the rocks and sticks. Even covered in fire ants, it would be good enough to eat. Tossing it on a log, he straddled and began removing meat, stuffing it in his mouth. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days. He felt like he would never have another meal. Forcing the meat down, he reached beneath him, and scooped a handful of water to rinse it down.

* * *

I danced the horse around, occupying my mind as the sun began to set on the other side of the sky. Daryl was hours late. He was hours late, and no one was planning to go look for him. What was wrong with them? He was out looking for a little girl whom even I knew was probably dead. Something was wrong…

"Screw Rick…", I mumbled, as I turned the horse back around, and exited the corral. I could at least patrol the opening to the woods. It was expansive, and gave me plenty of room to run this horse, while not technically breaking any rules. So, I took off down the tree line.

* * *

With walker ears around his neck, blood covering his mouth and chest, and his will to move on strengthened Daryl began the climb. He climbed and he climbed. Slowly, he reached the top of the ridge, but not without cost. His body was shutting down. His brain was playing tricks, and every scorpion sting sent him spiraling into a fit of sobs and rage. He slung a scorpion from his hand, and screamed out, grabbing another root to pull.

The vultures above began to lower, as if he was a dying animal. If he stopped, they would likely try to snack on his extremities. Shuddering, he pulled himself up, linking his foot in the same root.

"Please don't feed the birds!", Merle called out from above him. It was then that he realized, as if he hadn't before, that Merle was taunting him from inside. Merle was unfortunately a part of him. He was what kept him alive for so long, before he bothered interacting with the group, "What's the matter Darleena? That all you got in ya? Throw me that purse and climb, son!"

"I liked you better when you was missin'…", Daryl grunted out, turning backward to hoist himself up between two trees. As he did so, he almost made the fatal mistake of trusting the loose dirt, no doubt falling to his death, this time.

"Ah…Don't be like that! I'm on yer side!"

"Yeah? Since when?", Daryl gasped, taking a small break to grab a vine.

"Hell…Since the day you was born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after yer worthless ass…"

Daryl glanced up at Merle's figure, fighting with his brain over whether or not he was really standing at the top. He had to believe he was, at least for now. His voice was very real. The insults were very real, and if he worked hard enough, the punch to the face Merle was going to receive would be very real…

"You never took care of me…You talk a big game, but you was never there! You ain't here now…Some things never change."

"I'll tell you what. I'm as real as your Chupacabra…", Merle sneered, amusement in his voice.

"I know what I saw!"

"I bet them shrooms you ate had nothin' to do with it…", Merle chided.

"You best shut the hell up!", Daryl screamed, pulling alittle harder, as he reached for Merle's boots.

"OR WHAT?! You gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me? Kick off them damn high heels and climb, son!", Merle yelled with a loud cackle. Daryl's hands dug into the earth, grabbing trees, anything, as he let out another loud sob, hoisting himself another three or four feet. He stopped, growling with every breath as Merle continued to make fun of him, "If I was you…I'd take one for the cause…I just don't think yer gonna make it to the top…"

With a final scream of determination, Daryl swung himself around a tree, and leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

"Grab your friend Rick's hand…", Merle finished, before vanishing as Daryl reached the top, digging his fingers into the dirt. He held on, as if it was his last prayer on earth, dragging himself upward. He growled, and finally, was lying face down against the dirt. He gave no time to rest, moving to his knees, and then to his feet, ready to knock Merle's face off.

"YEAH YOU BETTER RUN!", he screamed, suddenly rather satisfied with himself. He was in the home stretch. He was alright…

* * *

The horse beneath me jumped, rising for a second at a sound in the woods. The sound was scary, and sounded much like a walker. Though, it also sounded human. I turned, scanning the woods behind us with every bit of tracking knowledge I had in me.

* * *

Daryl walked straight through, knowing that he would eventually reach the edge of the woods. He was surprised, though, at how quickly he did so. Dragging his crossbow behind him by its broken strap, he pushed a branch to the side, and exited the thick coverage. His face was pale, and he was slowly bleeding out, but now, he almost felt like passing out, and hoping that someone came for him.

* * *

A figure began to emerge, but farther down than I expected. The figure limped out, was covered in blood, and I gasped.

"Daryl?"


	24. Chapter 24: Torn and Frayed

**A/N: Here's another one of my favorite chapters. I don't know how much you guys will like these, since they were pretty canon in places...but...maybe you'll appreciate the little pieces of the episode that Daryl was missing. If you go back and watch this episode, it's fun to place pieces of the story in there, and see where "Oh! Shan was there!" or "Daryl was just talking to Shan!".**

**So, hopefully you guys enjoy this. I'm really proud, but really nervous about it, because I added a bit of sweetness. I love you guys...and I'll get you another chapter soon. Until then, please leave a review! It means so much to me for you go give either kind of feedback, good or bad. Even neutral feedback shows that people actually read.**

**Next chapter is going to be pretty exciting, and will be ALL Daryl and Shan. Look for it in a few days.**

**Also, I made a forum for you guys on . Here's the link: forum/I-Can-t-Face-The-Dark-Without-You/129942/**

**Go there and chat it up! I would love to get to know all of you. If you're a follower, let me know who you are, what you like...anything you love/don't love about the show, the story, just anything you want.**

* * *

Chapter 24: Torn and Frayed

"Daryl?", I called out to the figure, and it didn't stop walking. My stomach fell into my feet, and my heart began to race, as I pulled and turned the horse to trot down toward it. If it was Daryl…and he was a walker, he was my problem.

As he continued to walk out, his features came out, more and more, sinking my heart a little further.

"Shan! What the hell are you doin'?", I heard Rick scream, as I pulled my gun and held it toward Daryl's head. Rick raised his own, as the others asked the same question I had.

"Is that Daryl?", Glenn asked, sighing.

"That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head! You gonna pull the trigger, or what?", Daryl called out to Rick. Relief swept over me for a split second. He was alive. He was alright. Well, he was far from alright, but he was standing. As suddenly as the relief came over, it was gone, as time began moving in slow motion. A gunshot rang out, and Daryl's head flew backward. Blood splattered me, and the bullet pierced the leather my hands were resting on. I drew my hands back in shock, and jumped from the horse.

"NO!", Rick screamed, lowering his gun to run to Daryl. I fell to the ground, smashing my face, before I crawled up to his head.

"Dare?! Oh my god…Dare…", I sobbed, looking up at Rick. His eyes were uneasy as Daryl's hand came up to touch the side of his face. I pulled the hair away from the wound, the simple gesture covering my hands in blood, "He's bleeding bad, guys…"

"I was kidding…", Daryl said, before he passed out. Rick leaned down, grabbing one of his arms, and hoisted him from the ground, with the help of Shane. I figured that Shane was REAL happy about assisting, but he did so anyways. I began seeing red. Not only had Rick kept me from the woods, when Daryl really was injured, but someone had shot him. Someone had randomly shot him? They had to have seen me out there. They had to have known that Rick was coming to help. God dammit…

"Oh my god! Is he dead?", Andrea screamed, running across the field with Dale in tow. As if he read my mind, Rick looked back at TDog.

"You stupid BITCH!", I screamed. I woke up in a terrible mood. I woke up ready to go back to bed. I woke up wanting Daryl to be back. As if enough bad hadn't happened for the day, Daryl was now laid up. I ran at her, jumping. Before I could make contact, TDog had me, avoiding all of my flailing limbs and screams, "Come over here! You trigger happy fucking bitch! I'll blow your fucking head off. GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!"

I turned, writhed, and attempted to escape the bear hug I was in. It was no good. So, I relaxed, still breathing heavily.

"Why don't you relax! It was an accident…I would never…"

"Just get the fuck away from me…If I see you in the house, anywhere near him, I'll kill you. Understand that, right now. I hope Hershel does away with you…", I sneered. It was a childish threat, but it was exactly what I was feeling. At the time, I was hoping that Andrea was cast out, eaten by walkers, whatever it took, because there was still a chance that Daryl was dying.

"He's wearing ears!", I heard Glenn yell out, as Rick and the group passed me and TDog. I narrowed my eyes at the doll stuffed into the back of Daryl's jeans, and pointed. TDog caught up, grabbing it and held it up.

"Guys! Isn't this Sophia's?"

Taking a deep breath, I glared at Rick as they turned around, and with TDog's arm wrapped around me for Andrea's sake, I followed them back to the house.

* * *

"Help me get his pants off…", I said softly to Carol, as we lifted him together. Hershel had managed to slow the bleeding on his side, but refused to do anything, with him covered in filth. I held much of his weight against my tiny frame, as Carol unbuttoned, and yanked at his pants. As they pooled on the floor, I looked his legs over. They were covered in stings and scrapes, as well as old scars. Sighing, I ran a bloody hand along my forehead, smearing Daryl's blood across my skin.

Carol's face melted into pity, as she pulled his tanktop over his head, and revealed even more scars, and scrapes. I covered my mouth.

"I can take care of this, if you need…"

"I'm fine. Let's just…get him in the bath.", I whispered. She nodded, and somehow, together, we managed to hoist Daryl's body over the side of Jacuzzi tub. As his body hit the water, he flinched, rising up. I crawled around behind him, sitting on the ledge with my legs on either side of his body, "Dare! Hey…it's okay. It's okay…shh…"

As if the cooing soothed him, he slowly went limp against my chest, his breathing shallow.

"We need to hurry…let Hershel get him stitched up real good.", Carol whispered, looking down at the bloody water. I nodded and she began sponging water over his chest, washing ants and blood away. The scars that were revealed under the dirt almost made me sick. Not only were they awful, but they were inflicted by his father…and they had always been there. The fact that I had never seen them before, disgusted me.

"Is he going to be okay?", I asked Carol, my eyes pleaded her to just say 'yes'. Her eyes softened as she washed under one of his arms, and then cleaned his fingernails. She didn't answer me, finishing him by washing his hair. He was still filthy, but at least he wouldn't stain Hershel's white sheets. She pulled the plug, waiting for the water to run out, before she covered his midsection in a towel, and moved to help me hoist him up.

"Luckily, he gets to wake up to clean underwear…", Carol mused, and I couldn't help it. I giggled, leaning against the bathtub, with his body resting against mine. He was heavy, and my abs complained, as Carol worked the fabric up his legs, and wrapped her arms around him to pull the boxers up. Satisfied, she walked to the door, where TDog was standing, "He's ready…"

* * *

Daryl's eyes fluttered open. He was freezing, and his hair was wet. He jolted upward, only to be pushed back down by a strong hand.

"What the hell?", he croaked out, seeing T-Dog at his side. A sharp pain caused him to flinch, quickly looking down at his side, where Hershel was hard at work stitching up his wound. He relaxed a bit, leaning back.

"Hold this on your head, until I can get to it. The girls broke it open…washing your hair."

"Girls?", Daryl asked, taking the gauze from Hershel.

"Your wife…and Carol. They washed you up, while I gathered supplies. You're lucky to be alive."

A knock at the door didn't faze him, until Rick walked in with a map. Daryl glanced down at Hershel, taking he opportunity of the needle being removed to set up a little straighter. Rick set the map down on the edge of the bed, and opened it.

"You feel up to tellin' me where you found that doll?", Rick asked, and Daryl nodded, looking the map over. He found the shallow creek bed he had found before he was thrown, and pointed to it.

"I washed up against this creek bed, here.", he murmured, "She musta dropped it crossin' or somethin'."

Rick nodded, suddenly excited about the news. He glanced toward the window, where Daryl hadn't noticed Shane's figure. Shane didn't look excited to be in the same room, but at least he was quiet. As long as he kept his damn mouth shut, everyone would be okay.

"That cuts the grid almost in half…", Rick said to him.

"You're welcome…", Daryl muttered then, glancing down to Hershel, who was a little rougher than Daryl figured he needed to be. He winced as the old man tugged the thread tightly, and snipped it.

"How's he lookin'?", Rick asked.

"I had no idea we'd be going through antibiotics so quickly.", Hershel complained, and Rick closed his eyes in frustration for a second, "You have any idea what happened to my horse?"

"The one that almost killed me? If it's smart, it left the country…", Daryl snapped, glancing down at Hershel's finished work.

"I could have told you that horse would throw you, if you'd bothered to ask. It's a wonder you people have survived this long…", Hershel scolded, turning to Rick. Rick simply nodded, as Daryl began to drift off to sleep. There was still another round of stitches, but he was exhausted.

"Is he gonna be okay?", Rick asked.

"He'll be fine. He can stay in the house for tonight. He needs to get some sleep to calm the muscle spasms and all…but he'll be fine in a few days, I'm sure. How he walked back…I couldn't tell ya."

* * *

I ate my dinner alone, sitting on the porch. I wasn't ready to go in, and see Daryl all bandaged up. I wasn't ready to walk past the people in the hall, acting like they cared. I wasn't ready for any of it. What I really wasn't ready for, was Daryl acting like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't almost died, like he wasn't hurting.

I threw the last piece of potato into my mouth, and finished off my tea, before standing from my place. As I turned, Carol emerged from the house, her arms crossed, wanting to talk.

"You okay?", she asked, taking my plate and glass from me. I bit my lip, but didn't answer, "You go on up there. Everyone's in the kitchen and I'll get him some food. I'm sure he's waiting to see you…"

"But…", I argued, crossing my arms in an attempt to be stubborn.

"Enough buts…You've had a rough day too. Go on…I'll be there in a bit."

"Thank you, Carol…", I whispered, kissing her shoulder as I passed her. I quietly walked up the stairs, attempting to not wake him, if he was asleep. I didn't know the story. I didn't know where the wounds had come from, especially the one in his side, but he looked terrible during his bath. I cracked the door open, not bothering to knock, and walked along the outer rim of the bed. Daryl fidgeted, obviously awake, and covered himself to his neck with a sheet.

"Why ain't you at dinner?", he asked, just as I had expected.

"I already ate…wanted to come check on you. I won't ask how you're feeling. I saw…You weren't bit, were you?"

"Not that I know of. Took an arrow to the side and a bullet to the head. That ain't enough?", he kidded, and I smirked, sitting on the window sill. I pulled my knees up to my chest.

"No fever?", I asked, chewing my lip as I watched him. His breathing was still rather shallow, and he seemed to be in a lot of pain, but he was okay.

"No fever."

"Good. I was coming after you…you know that, right?", I asked, and his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Why would you? I dug my grave…I laid in it. Not yer fault."

"I know. I just can't help thinking that if I had come out earlier, you wouldn't be in this shape.", I whispered. He didn't say anything, just stared, until Carol opened the door and entered with a plate in her hands. I brought my hands up, and wiped under my eyes, smiling at her.

"How you feelin'?", she asked him, as he turned and wrapped himself tighter in the sheets. I frowned, knowing that he would give anything for a shirt, right about now. He scoffed, and stared at the ceiling.

"Bout as good as I look…"

"I brought you some dinner. You must be starving…", Carol tried again, attempting to make connection with him. We were the two people in his life who knew his scars, his past. We were the people who wanted to be around him, and he was the man who would push any of that away, unless he was forced to accept it. He glared at her for a second, before turning back to me.

"Dare…", I whispered in a sort of scold. Carol waved me off of him, leaning down slowly. The gesture elicited a heavy flinch from him, as she pressed her lips to his forehead, softly. I smiled. Lowering my feet to the floor.

"Watch out. I got stitches…", he muttered, and I rolled my eyes. I didn't need to defend Carol. She instantly spoke up, with a soft smile on her face.

"You need to know something. You did more for my little girl, today, than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.", she whispered. I bit my lip, knowing that the words would catch Daryl off guard. He turned, staring at her for a good couple of seconds, before deciding on the best reply.

"I didn't do nothin' Rick or Shane wouldn't have done.", he replied, pulling the covers up around him. Carol smiled, satisfied that she had at least made him admit that he had done good.

"I know. You're every bit as good as them…Every bit.", she whispered, before leaving the room. I stayed quiet, letting him deal with the words that had been said to him. His trembling hand came up to touch the bandage, and then down to the mattress to sit himself up. I moved from my place, and leaned to help him, pulling the pillows up behind him.

"Here…I'll get that.", I whispered, grabbing the plate of food. I straddled his ankles, and sat the plate between us carefully. With a frown, he picked up his fork, and began eating green beans in silence. As he began to finish one thing after another, like a child, I tore his chicken from the bones, lying the breading to one side, and the meat to another. It was a comfort that I knew he would appreciate, with his hands stung and torn to shreds.

"You ain't gotta take care of me…", he whispered, putting a piece of chicken in his mouth. His eyes were heavy, and I wondered if he had a pretty bad concussion. I knew him too well to bother asking if he felt okay, or if he felt dizzy at all. He would either shrug it off, or he would lie to me about it, anyways.

"I want to. It kinda goes along with the whole, 'we need each other', thing. Just take it…", I quoted him, and I noticed a small smirk appear as he shoved more chicken in his mouth, leaving the breading to the side. He grabbed for the mason jar of tea, but his hands were stiff, the venom coursing through them almost paralyzing. He sighed in frustration, knowing that he needed to ask for help, and flexed his hands. Instead of making him ask, I picked up the glass, and turned the straw toward his mouth, letting him drink as much as he wanted.

He soon pushed the plate away, satisfied with a full belly and a warm bed. I took it, and stood from the bed, placing the entire tray on the dresser. I brought the tea glass back over to the end table, and sat it down next to his midnight dose of pain killers.

"You sleepin' outside?", he asked, as I returned to the bed, resting my bottom against my heels. I shrugged, glancing out the window, where everyone was in their various stages of bedtime, "Nah. Old man's lettin' me sleep in here…I ain't leavin' you out there. Not tonight."

"I was planning to ask, anyway.", I admitted, crawling up to lie on the extra pillow, "I don't trust them, with you…"

He glanced at me, frowning, before realizing it was a joke. He scoffed, flexing his sore hands again. He was embarrassed that he was requiring help. He was embarrassed that he was in any kind of pain. Of all things…he was embarrassed for almost dying.

"What happened to you?", I asked, reaching out to wipe a droplet of blood from Daryl's arm. He was still bleeding in random places, from branches and thorns. He sighed, and told me everything, from falling, to Merle, to the ants and scorpions. It was hard to listen, knowing that we could have been out there helping him up the ridge. We could have been out there, making sure that he even made it home.

"But I'm still standin'…", he finished, sinking down into the covers. It was a childish move that made me smile.

"I attacked Andrea…", I whispered, moving closer to him. I watched his eyelids as he looked down at my throat and swallowed. Our noses were an inch apart, and his breath on my face was reassuring, after the day's events, "I wanted to kill her..."

"That who shot me?", he asked, meeting my eyes.

"Yeah. We were all out there. I was on a horse, calling your name. There was no way she didn't see us…", I accused. He nodded.

"I wouldn't doubt it…We ain't exactly on terms…", he mumbled, sleepiness beginning to take over. I glanced at the miniature grandfather clock that sat on the shelf next to the bed. I would have to stay awake until time for his medication, or he would never take it. The thought hit me that I should have knocked Andrea's face off. Maybe she had shot Daryl on purpose. I couldn't believe that. I couldn't let myself believe that, but I did hope, for her sake, that she steered clear of Daryl and myself.

"Why don't you go to sleep?", I whispered, reaching up to run a hand down the side of his face. I repeated the motion, running it over his eyes as he trembled, and his brow furrowed, "Relax, Dare…"

I ran the same fingers down his face, until his mouth began to hang open from relaxation. I stopped the motion, leaning forward just enough to touch noses, and to brush my lips against his. Before the words registered in my mind, they slipped from my lips, "I love you…"

His eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, as if he could hear me from far away. I was thankful that he was dreaming, and couldn't run away. I brought my hand down to his chest, carefully avoiding the deep gash that ran across it, and began to doze off to the sound of his whispering and uneasy groans. To most people, his sleep talking would be mind numbing. For me, it was like a lullaby, shoving me toward a very comfortable sleep. Before succumbing completely, I pulled the covers up over us, and turned out the light.

Torn and Frayed…I still had security, right here.


	25. Chapter 25: Fix You

**A/N: Here's Chapter 25. It's set during Season 2, Episode 6 - Secrets. Daryl had one scene in the entire episode. So, this is how I interpreted his day might have went. It's simple, and sweet, and I hope that you enjoy. **

**It's the calm before the storm, because the next chapter is "Pretty Much Dead Already", which we all recognize the meaning behind. Review! I'm in a writing mood...the more reviews, the more chapters will be posted...and quicker.**

* * *

Chapter 25: Fix You

The morning didn't wake me, as it normally did. When I awakened, it wasn't to the sun beating away at my eyelids. It was to the humming in my head that said it was fed up with my sleeping. It was fed up with my laziness. My eyes fluttered open, struggling to part, as the long sleep had glued them shut.

Daryl hadn't moved an inch, the entire night. He still lay, mouth slightly agape, sleeping like a baby. I lifted a hand from the mattress between us, and held it over his mouth, checking for the shallow breath that it found. I sighed in relief a bit, moving the hand down to his knuckles. The swelling seemed to have gone down, and they flexed beneath my touch.

I glanced over his arm, out the window, and noticed that it was early afternoon. I couldn't see the sun, and people were hustling and bustling about, as if they were hurrying to get things done, before they lost daylight. I sighed, feeling a bit guilty for my sudden lazy spell. There was just something about having a bed, and having almost lost Daryl. I could barely force myself to leave…

A soft groan left Daryl's mouth, and he closed it, smacking his lips a few times at the foul taste of morning. I smirked, watching him stir awake. No sooner had he stirred, was he bolting from the mattress. He too noticed the time, but the loud and broken gasp that left his lips told me that he wouldn't be able to do much about it. He grabbed his side, closing his eyes tightly, and took a few deep breaths. With every breath came a painful groan, until the pain began to calm. He glanced over to me with narrowed eyes, and I gave a warm smile.

"Good morning.", I said simply, pushing myself to a sitting position. He was a bit more bruised than earlier, and his scars almost blended in with the black and blue of his back. I felt even worse than before, and now I dreaded seeing Rick. I dreaded the anger that would surely flow from my lips, as soon as he asked what was wrong.

"Mm…", Daryl grunted, flexing his arms a bit. It was then that I remembered his medication. I closed my eyes and sighed in shame, reaching behind me. I picked up the pill, holding it out to him, "…Nah. I don't wanna be loopy all damn day."

"Dare…You were supposed to take it at midnight.", I protested. He scoffed, standing from the bed with a small stagger.

"I slept fine without it. I'll work fine without it."

"No. No work…", I demanded, standing from the bed, myself. I pocketed the pill, still clad in my jeans and tshirt, "You're going to rest, today, if I have to break your legs…"

Another scoff left his lips, as he picked up a clean shirt from the dresser. Carol. She was too good to us. I turned my eyes to a similar pile of brand new clothing for me, and smirked a bit. My attention turned back to him, almost immediately.

"Don't you shrug me off, Dixon."

Hearing his last name, he stopped, and looked me in the eyes. He expected me to complain, but not for me to be this persistent.

"What do you want me to do?", he asked, looking for guidance. Rest wasn't in his vocabulary. Injured wasn't in his vocabulary. Never in his life had he been able to just…rest.

"I want you to come back to bed and rest. I'll go and fetch you some breakfast…"

"Nah. I don't wanna be in here. Ain't no sense in takin' up a bed.", he mumbled, buttoning the last two buttons of his shirt. He picked up his jeans, slipping them over his legs.

"Okay, fine. How about you go and lie down in the tent? I'll get you some food. You lie there. We'll…we'll find something to do. I'm sure there's a board game around here to play. Anything…", I pleaded with him. He stopped, holding his jacket in his hand, and stared at my face. For a second, there was no reading his expression as he watched my own; "If you never do anything for me in your life…do this. Please, Dare."

"Why you so worried about it?", he asked, chewing his lip. I sighed, and shook my head, turning my eyes to the ground.

"You have no idea how close you came to being killed. You're obviously hurt. You are allowed to be handicapped…just for a day. You are allowed to let someone take care of you."

He thought it over, bringing a hand up to chew the skin from his thumb. After deliberating, he finally nodded, looking at the ground.

"Alright.", he whispered reluctantly. A wide smile spread across my face, "But I don't want none of them comin' to my rescue. If I'm laid up…Yer idea, yer problem…"

"Deal.", I agreed, shedding my pants. We finished dressing, gathered our clothes, and headed out to the camp. Even though he was reluctant to do so, Daryl was letting me take care of him. It was one less worry for the group. It was one less worry for my mind…

* * *

Daryl carefully ducked into his tent. He avoided any sudden movements to the best of his ability, to keep his hisses and complaints down. Otherwise, Shan would be shoving pills down his throat, left and right. Being who he was, he would rather the pills be saved, in case someone else in the group was injured. So, he turned, and carefully lay down, folding his pillow over to prop his head up. This was foreign. Lying in bed in the middle of the day just didn't seem right, when there was watch to be had. There was work to be done. There was a little girl to find.

"I'm going to fetch breakfast.", Shan said simply, tossing her clothes into the corner of the tent. She didn't enter, but crossed her arms and walked away. Daryl hated that she felt the need to take care of him. He could walk. He could raise his arms a bit; aside from the dry stitches pulling every time he did so. That meant he could work. If nothing else, he could bathe the horses. He sighed, staring out the mesh window of his tent.

Before long, Shan returned, her boots padding softly across the grass as she approached. She ducked into the tent, taking her usual seat atop his ankles and handed him a plate of eggs and chicken breast. His stomach growled and his mouth watered at the sight in front of him. He sat up a little straighter dragging her along with him, and began scarfing the food down.

"Y'aint gonna eat?", he mumbled through a full mouth.

"I had a couple of cut up peaches in the house. I wasn't really in the mood for Chicken, after havin' it for dinner."

"Better than squirrel…", Daryl admitted, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he waited for her to agree. She smiled a bit and shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess you have a point…", she said softly, taking a piece of egg from his plate, "Overall, how are you feeling?"

Daryl stopped eating for a second, looking down at the plate. He had been asked that question more in the past two days than he had been asked in his entire life. It wasn't commonplace around his home, even after he left his dad, to hear any sort of sympathy. You sucked it up. You moved on.

"Sore, bored…"

"You just woke up. You can't be bored yet…I remember when you would have killed for a day in bed…", Shan said with a smirk.

"A day when yer parents were out of town, maybe. That's a little different than this…"

They both laughed a bit, and Daryl allowed his laugh to taper off into a frown, as he picked through the scrambled eggs, slowly throwing them into his mouth. He missed the farm, now more than ever. He missed the crawling through windows; the stupid tick filled rendezvous under the stars, the muddy water…the nasty tea…

He pushed the plate away, suddenly feeling the need to lie down. Shan eyed him, taking the plate. She reached outside the door and set it down for Carol to grab on her way by, and then turned back to him, running her hands up his legs. He closed his eyes and sighed, lying back against the hard ground.

"What're you thinkin' about?", she whispered, her hands moving back down toward his ankles, before making their way to the tops again. The movement was soothing, and Daryl opened his eyes, staring at the roof of he tent.

"Nothin' important.", he said simply, stopping Shan in her tracks. She was onto him. She knew his mannerisms, his quirks. She knew he was lying, "Just thinkin' about when this shit started…I ran for the hills. Shoulda stayed back. Shoulda helped.."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda…", Shan interrupted, moving to unlace his boots, "You can't think about that. No one was prepared for it. Everyone lost people, Dare."

"It ain't just yer parents…You…What happened in Atlanta?", he asked, finally. He had wanted to ask the question for weeks, after seeing her so banged up. He had wanted to know who he was wishing death on, who he would kill, if he found them.

"You sure that's something we should discuss, right now?"

"I don't see no better time…It's gonna hurt either way.", he answered, glancing down to her. As she fiddled with his boots, pulling them off his feet, she seemed to prepare herself for the story. So, he followed suit, mentally preparing himself for what she was about to tell him.

* * *

I lowered my eyes, taking deep breaths, as if it would calm my nerves. I wasn't nervous to tell Daryl any secrets. I was only nervous at how my own mind would react to admitting what had happened was real. Up until this point, it was easy to write it off as some fictional occurrence that my brain had made up to one-up the apocalypse. Truth was, Atlanta was a million times worse than anything we had seen.

"Um…", I whispered, my voice shaky as the memories began to flood my brain. My hands shook as I traced the outline of a deep scar that ran across Daryl's ankle, "I left the farm with Riot…and we were attacked inside of Atlanta. I don't know if we were attacked just because we ran…or if we were taken down for the sheer fact that I was a woman. Either way…they killed him, took me, and stole my stuff. They said they knew you from the motorcycle shop."

The words spilled from my mouth quickly, as if they were running from my internal thoughts that wanted to hold them back. Daryl tensed at the idea that he knew the men, and leaned up on his elbows to listen, as I continued.

"I don't know where they took me…but I counted the days off on the wall. Every day, the same time…one at a time; they would come in…", I broke off, glancing briefly to Daryl's face. His eyes were on fire, just as I suspected they would be. I didn't want to continue. I wanted him to let it go. He knew what had happened…

"And they…", he whispered for confirmation. I nodded, fighting back the tears that stung my lower lids, and began spilling over, hitting his boots with a deafening 'splat'. He shifted, gasping a bit at the sudden movement, and pulled his legs from me, into a comfortable sitting position, "How'd you get away?"

"I don't wanna talk about it.", I whispered, now picking at the random blades of grass that we had tracked into the

"But you got to. You gotta let this shit go. I see it on your back every day. Back at the CDC…you were a shell. You were...I ain't one for all this…but…dammit you need to…"

"I killed them all…", I interrupted with a nod.

"Wha'?"

"I killed them. I killed every damn one of them in that house…ran into the street…found Glenn. That's how I got out.", I said quickly, my chest rising and falling heavily, "One guy attacked me…I-I took a plastic fork…"

Daryl's face was contorted into an expression I had never seen before, as he picked up my hand. He looked it over as if he couldn't believe that it could commit to such things as killing humans. He sighed, and I continued.

"I stabbed him in the eye. He wasn't dead. He rolled around on the ground, carryin' on…I stomped him.", I looked up to his face, as his movements stopped, "I kept thinking about getting out, after that. My feet moved faster than my brain…I stabbed a guy…shot the other in the face…"

I wrapped it up in a nice little package, letting out the breath I was holding in. There. It was out. I was blunt with him. If he needed time to settle in, I would give it to him.

"If I had've…"

"None of that. I don't wanna hear it. I don't want what ifs and pity for it. It's over. I'm stronger 'cause of it…You wanted to know.", I said quickly, wiping my face.

"Strong from bein' raped?"

I winced at the word, sharply turning my head to him. I hadn't put it into words, like that and they cut me like a knife. I gathered myself, and began to stand. The hand wrapped around my wrist startled me a bit, and I turned, glaring down at Daryl's pleading face.

"Don't leave like that…", he whispered. His eyes were softened, and his clean face begged me to stay. It was my idea to have him stay inside. Leaving him would be a rash decision that he would likely hold over my head later on. I sighed, folding my arms over my chest as he let me go, "I'm sorry. I think I get it, why you're just…ignoring it. It's over…"

"And I want it left alone. I'm healed up. I'm fine. You need to worry about yourself.", I continued, still standing. He nodded, his hardened features returning to normal.

"C'mere…", he whispered, checking to make sure that the screens on all sides of the tent were covered. He slowly lowered himself onto the bedding, stretching one of his bruised arms out beside him. I smiled, taking the hint, and followed suit, lying against his arm, "I gotcha…"

As we lay there, the afternoon wore on. We didn't talk much, simply enjoying the relaxation we were allowed, for a change. I found myself daydreaming back to the farm, to the days of sneaking around. It felt real similar, at this moment, with Daryl being so nervous. He didn't want people knowing his business. He didn't want anyone asking him questions. He told what he wanted known. All the rest was behind closed doors for a reason.

"Dare?", I asked, making sure he was still awake. The time was dragging by, but it was dark outside of the tent. He grunted, signalling that he heard me, and I smiled, "Thanks for being here…"

"Ain't I always been?", he asked, bringing his hand up to pull my bangs away from my forehead. I shrugged, causing him to break news to me, "I'm gonna go out tomorrow…"

"Dare…"

"Don't 'Dare' me. I'll be alright. I'm not lyin' around anymore…", he explained. I couldn't really say anything. It wasn't in his nature to have days like today.

"Do I have to ask you to be safe?", I asked him, eliciting a scoff, "Didn't think so…"

"Shan…", I heard from outside of the tent. The silhouette was familiar and I sighed, patting Daryl's chest as I sat up. I unzipped the tent, peeking out from around the small bit of canvas. Rick's hands were on his hips, signalling that he was expecting me to stand and talk. I sighed again, crawling from the tent, barefoot. I stood, wiping my hands, and quickly crossed my arms across my body, "How's he doin'?"

"He's sore, but he's doing good. He's planning to hunt, tomorrow.", I answered simply, not meeting Rick's eyes.

"How're you doin'?"

"I'm fine. I'm…absolutely fine. Daryl's okay. He's my only worry. Is that all you wanted?", I internally winced at my own attitude, mirroring Rick's external one.

"Yeah…Yeah. That's all I wanted…", Rick sighed, kicking some of the dirt under his boots, "Actually…no. I wanted to tell you that I'm not sorry…"

"What?", I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"I'm not sorry for holding you back, yesterday. You would have gotten yourself killed out there. I'm not sorry for preventing that. You mean a lot to me…To the group."

I watched his eyes, scoffing a bit, "And Daryl? What's he…your henchman? He does what you say, and if he dies…he's just collateral damage?"

"What? How could you say something like that?", Rick asked incredulously.

"Because that's how it feels from this end, Rick! Don't you see how hard he's trying to be good? Do you have any idea the kind of pressure he puts on himself…to be your perfect little soldier? He has a hole in his side…and he wants to go out tomorrow and look for Sophia. He wants to ride another horse…go out in the same woods and look for her. I feel like he's expendable to you guys, like Merle was."

"Merle was a liability. He was a danger to the entire group. I did what had to be done…", Rick retorted, "Daryl's earned his place here. He means more to the group than you could imagine…"

"Then act like it! Act like he means something. Show him…he means something. I know he doesn't know how to accept thanks. He doesn't understand feelings, but dammit, he needs that acceptance. He needs to know…whether he tells you he does, or not…", I whispered urgently, "Yesterday…I almost lost my entire existence with one bullet. I'll kill Andrea if she treads too far. I'll slit her throat. She wouldn't be the first…"

Rick's face contorted a bit, and he looked down at the ground, "I apologize for what you're going through. I apologize for the pain that Daryl is in, and the pain that I see in your eyes, right now. You make sure he doesn't pull away from us, and I'll make sure he's taken care of."

I sighed, accepting his kindness, "I can't help how I feel about…"

"Lori's pregnant…", Rick said quickly, diverting his eyes from me. He shifted to his other foot, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "She also told me that…she and Shane…"

My stomach dropped at what he was hinting to, and I stepped forward, not meeting his eyes. I was still angry. My feelings hadn't changed, but I felt legitimately horrible for him. Without him moving; Without him taking his hand from his face, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and sighed. His chin met the top of my head, and he let out his own ragged sigh as the tears overwhelmed his eyes.

"It's going to be okay…", I whispered, rubbing his back soothingly, "I promise it will be okay…"


	26. Chapter 26: Pretty Much Dead Already Pt1

**A/N: I didn't want to cut this episode in half, but it's appropriate. Writing an 8,000 word chapter is not only exhausting, but it's hard to read. So, I think I'm doing us both a favor. Hopefully you guys enjoy this. After last night's heartbreaking episode, I have a whole new outlook on Daryl's personality.**

**Do your thing: Read, Review, and let me know what you think about everything - Good or Bad.**

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Chapter 26: Pretty Much Dead Already Part 1

"So…What does she want to do?", I asked Rick, as we sat around a fire. He was still shaking, and his eyes were still hazy, as he stared forward into the blaze. I could see his psyche had taken a hit. I had to admit that I didn't agree with bringing a child into this world, but what was done was done.

"She…", he started, before a ragged sigh left his throat. I placed a hand on his knee, squeezing a bit, "She took a bunch of pills. She wanted it over…"

"Oh my god…did it work? I mean…wow…"

"She threw them up before I got to her. Said she had a change of heart…but…then she gave me this speech about how cruel it was to let it survive…like I was the bad guy…", he spoke in breaks, exhaustion showing more and more with every word. After a brief pause, he turned to me, "Do you think I'm wrong? Maybe…Maybe I'm not cut out…to help these people anymore, if I can't make this kind of call…Maybe…"

"That's a lot of maybes for a man who just found out his wife is pregnant. The baby…Rick…It's a baby. It's YOUR baby. Even if it was Shane's…you couldn't live with that, could you? This isn't a decision for you to make. There's no decision…there's no call. This is something…that's not just going to blow over. It has to be priority number one for you…", I ranted, standing. I squatted in front of him, taking both his hands in mine, and sighed. Where my strength came from, I couldn't say, but obviously…he needed it, "That baby is being brought into the world whether you're ready for it or not. Dwelling…and all that…it's not going to change anything, but it WILL waste time that you don't have…"

I couldn't read his expression, as his eyes spaced out more than they already had. However, he began to nod slowly, with big movements, causing me to nod with him. He took in a shaky breath, and removed his hands from mine slowly, "Thank you. I'm sorry for what I said, earlier…I'm sorry…"

"Shh. I didn't ask for an apology. You need some sleep…Get your head in order before you go out there, tomorrow. All this will still be waiting when you get back…"

I received another nod, as he gathered himself, and stood. I stood with him, holding my hands out at his sides for support, and watched him walk into the darkness. It was my turn to break a bit. I took a deep breath, paced for a second, and turned to the tent.

* * *

"What's that all about? I heard you givin' him hell out there…", Daryl asked as I ducked back into the tent and sat down against his ankles, chewing at my lip.

"Nothin' important. He was checkin' on you. He wanted to see how you were, tell you thanks…", I half lied, wiping under my eyes. The motion stirred Daryl, and he sat up, reaching a hand out to my face. It was my turn to flinch at the out of character response to tears.

As another tear appeared, and snuck down my cheek, his thumb was quick to brush it away, watching my features. He felt helpless, by the look on his face, and was mulling something over in his head. I sighed, pulling my cheek away from his hand to look down.

"Have I ever told you…that you're…um…you're really pretty?", Daryl spoke up, and I smiled, letting a small giggle leave my throat. I sniffled, meeting his eyes as they scanned mine. He wasn't one for wooing the ladies, but he had always tried, with me. I appreciated a valiant effort.

"I don't think…Not in so many words, anyway."

"Yeah. Well…I am, now. You know…I'm tellin' ya.", he stammered out. My smile didn't leave my lips as I stared back down at the makeshift bed, "I don't like it when you cry."

"Seems to be all I do, these days…", I admitted. Daryl once again went into a stare, watching for any sign that he could help the tears that continued flowing down my cheeks. Sensing his helplessness, I pasted on a fake smile, quickly wiping my eyes, and met his stare, "I'm alright, though. It's just been a long couple of days."

He nodded, "Can't blame Rick, though. He just did what he had to. He's right…"

I furrowed my eyebrows, staring back at him incredulously. He had heard every single word that we had spoken outside the tent. He had heard my protests, and Rick's, and truthfully, he knew the reason for my tears.

"I don't blame him. He has his own issues…I've never felt so terrible for someone…"

"Rick's a tough man. He'll be alright…", Daryl comforted, flicking away another tear as it fell. Had he not been sitting across from me, I would have pinched myself. It was the most emotion I had seen from Daryl, ever. Either he was really comfortable, or he was still under the weather of his concussion, "How bout you get some sleep…You can go out with me in the mornin'."

I narrowed my eyes, as a small smile spread across my face, "Me? Go out there? That's exactly what Rick doesn't want."

"No. Rick don't want you out there alone. He knows I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to you…"

I nodded, "Alright. I like it better that way, anyway. Better than you bein' out there alone after yesterday."

"That's why I offered…", he whispered, finally. We sat in silence, staring off in our own directions, before he shifted. The shift was slow, pulling his ankles from under me. His body scooted closer, and his shivering fingers pushed the hair behind my ears, as he pressed his lips to mine. It was a sweet gesture, and the overwhelming feeling of something familiar was like a drug. I returned the kiss carefully, closing my eyes, giving the 'okay' to him. Like clockwork, his hand moved from my cheek, up my jawline, and was quickly tangled in my hair; twisting and pulling as the kiss turned from something sweet and simple, into something hungry and powerful.

My bottom lip between his teeth, and his chest pressing against mine lowered me to the bed. As my hair touched the pillow, my stomach began to curl. It rolled and tumbled, and my head began to swim and flash. I let out a shaky sigh, pulling away from the kiss briefly. The images were terrifying, bringing up terrible things in such a perfect moment. Daryl didn't seem to notice, as his lips made their way back down my jawline, to my neck, and across my chest. I pressed my back into the bed, attempting to enjoy the wondering hands that used to keep me sane.

His hands made their way to the button of my jeans, popping it open quickly, and delved into the front. My stomach lurched again.

"Stop…", I whispered, and Daryl froze. He continued placing slow and sweet kisses against my stomach, until I pushed my shirt down, blocking him off.

"What's wrong? Ya sick?"

"No…", I sighed, "No…Just…give me a minute."

He removed his hand, hovering over my body as I breathed in deep, staring straight at the ceiling. I avoided his eyes, and eventually, his lips found my forehead, remaining there for several seconds.

"I know that look…", he whispered against my forehead, causing me to close my eyes, "What's goin' through yer mind? You look sick."

"Everything's ruined…Everything…", I whispered, attempting to keep my voice steady. I failed, and a small whimper left my lips.

"Nothin'…is ruined. Here…", he responded, pulling away from me. He buttoned my jeans, and laid down beside me, forcing me to turn and look at him. A hand came around behind my head, pulling my face to his throat, "Nothin's ruined…"

I was the first to fall asleep, that night. My crying halted, my breathing slowed, and I slowly drifted off to sleep. However, nightmares kept the sleep from being anything close to pleasant. I woke up at least ten times to Daryl's voice, and his hands in my hair, and when Carol called us for breakfast, I was anything but ready to leave the warmth of the bed.

"Psst…Daryl…", I heard her whispering from the doorway. Daryl's soft snores still filled the air around me as I opened my eyes, and groaned, "Shan…I'm so sorry. I didn't want to wake you. I was just letting Daryl know…"

"It's fine, Carol. Dare…Hey..", I whispered, shoving Daryl's shoulder roughly. He jerked awake, his knife flying from under the pillow to stop an inch from my eye socket. We shared a moment of shaky breathing, as Carol stared on, shocked. She stood silently, and turned away from the tent as Daryl lowered his knife. He let out his breath, as I did, attempting to slow my heartbeat, "What the hell was that?"

"Nothin'…C'mon…", and he was up, grabbing his jacket. He dragged it out, and stomped across the yard without me. Sighing, I followed.

* * *

"Um…guys?", Glenn spoke up at breakfast. Carol brought three plates over, carefully handing one to Daryl, then me, and finally to T-Dog. I thanked her quietly, picking up a large piece of egg. I glanced to Glenn, who looked amazingly tense with all the eyes on him, "The barn's full of walkers."

The air grew thick immediately, as we all shifted our eyes from one person to the next. Then, all eyes fell on Rick.

"The barn's full of Walkers? Is that what you just said?", Shane asked, stepping forward. He dropped his plate into the dishwater, causing Carol to flinch. Both Daryl and I sat up a little straighter, until Shane approached Rick, "We have to deal with this."

"I know…"

"We have to take care of it, now…", Shane repeated, grabbing his gun belt from the ground. He buckled it quickly, and began trekking across the yard.

"I KNOW!", Rick screamed, suddenly standing from his log. I jumped, watching him closely, "We're not doing ANYTHING! This is Hershel's land. We just found out about it…Let's at least take time to think this over."

"What's there to think over?!", Shan responded, turning on his heel.

"I don't know. Let's…Let's just go over there…see what we're dealing with, and maybe I can talk to Hershel about it…", Rick pleaded.

"Rick's right. Overreacting now could cast us out. We can't…we can't just leave…", Lori spoke up, pleading with Shane as well, "Let's go and see how bad it is, go from there."

"Then let's go. Breakfast can wait…", Shane hissed, turning back around. He stalked away, and Rick's eyes scanned over everyone, before nodding to Daryl. Daryl handed me his plate and stood, following Shane, with Rick close behind him. Seeing the three leading men running away, Carol and I shared a glance, and she took the plates from me, shooing me away.

"Wait up!", Glenn yelled out, running up to my side. He was holding a machete in his hand, and he looked nervous.

"Is it really that bad, Glenn?"

"It's worse than bad…", he answered, his eyes full of fear.

* * *

"You can NOT tell me you're alright with this…", Shane growled, stepping away from the growling behind the barn doors. We all stood, looking on as he drew close to Rick's face.

"No, I'm not, but we're guests here. This isn't our land…"

"This is our lives, man!", Shane screamed, causing Glenn to step forward. I grabbed for him, wrenching him back against my chest, as Daryl grabbed for me. It was a game of who wanted to take on Shane, next. I, for one, wanted to leave him to Rick.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug…", Andrea spoke up, and my head snapped toward her. It was then that we should have realized we were broken. Everyone was against someone. Everyone had someone to blame, here.

"We've either gotta go in there, and make things right, or we've just gotta go. We've been talking about Fort Benning for a while now…", Shane began again, circling Rick. My fists began to clench, as did Daryl's against my side.

"We can't go…", Rick answered.

"Why, Rick? Why?"

"Because my daughter's still out there.", Carol spoke up simply, her eyes beginning to water at the idea of leaving Sophia behind. Daryl stepped forward, pulling me to the side. Shane's dark laughter triggered more of a response than I would have liked from Daryl, as he walked forward and positioned himself in front of Carol, protectively.

"You know what? Maybe…just maybe we should consider the other possibility."

"Don't say that, man! I just found a damn doll two days ago!", Daryl spoke up, finally, as I pulled myself closer to Glenn.

"Yeah. You found a doll, Daryl, a doll…"

"Man, you don't know what the hell yer talkin' 'bout!", Daryl screamed suddenly, as Rick placed a hand on his chest, pushing him away from Shane. Rick's eyes glanced to me, and he nodded, letting me know that Daryl needed to be taken away.

"Daryl…Let's…", I started, stepping forward to him. I placed a hand on his lower back, as Shane continued.

"I'm just sayin' what needs to be said here! You get a good lead within the first forty-eight hours…and let me tell you somethin' else, man! If she was alive out there…saw you comin' all methed out with yer Buck knife and geek ears around yer neck…She would run in the other direction!"

Rick acted, realizing exactly what was about to happen, as Daryl exploded. Hands flew, and within all the screaming and jumping, someone managed to push Daryl back, as Shane spouted threats.

"You don't come at me, man! I'll kill you! You hear me?!"

"Yeah…I hear ya. Watch yer back, asshole…", Daryl sneered from behind Carol, as my hand hooked in his belt, and I began dragging him through the gate. He didn't fight much, after we reached the corral. A few growls left his throat, and he kicked the dirt beneath his feet, his hands placed on his hips, "You believe that?"

"What?"

"Do you think she's dead?", he clarified, his intensely pissed eyes glaring from under his growing bangs.

"Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"Just seems to be a general consensus…All them are behind Shane, like little suicidal robots…", he complained, walking in a circle again. I raised my eyebrows at his poetry and scoffed a bit, "What?"

"Suicidal robots? Nice one…"

"Shut up…", he mumbled, as a smirk crept up, "Let's get out there…"

I nodded, looking around for a horse. I caught a glimpse of a horse, already dressed and ready to go. It was probably a little tired, but with some movement, it would be warmed up again. Smiling, I pointed to it.

"Got mine…", I mused, and Daryl rolled his eyes, "You need help?"

He turned from me, throwing up a hand, and walked into the stable. I smiled, shrugged and began calling for my horse.

* * *

Daryl stepped into the storage shed, sighing at the idea of lifting one of the heavy saddles. The stitches in his side were itchy and dry, and would probably tear with any sudden movement. As soon as the thought came into his brain of asking Shan for help, it flew out, disappearing completely. He grabbed the edges of one of the trail saddles, lifting it with a loud grunt, and made his way to the stables.

As he entered, he caught a glimpse of Carol out of the corner of his eye, and sighed, before throwing the saddle over a horn, with another groan.

"You can't…", Carol whined from the doorway. Daryl rolled his eyes, catching his breath for a second, and then turned to grab a bridle.

"I'm fine."

"Hershel says you need to heal.", Carol spoke up again, watching his movements. He untangled one of the ropes, looking out the stall window to Shan, riding her own horse around in a dance.

"I don't care."

"Well, I do.", Carol whispered. Daryl opened the stall, and began slipping the bridle over the Mare's nose, "Rick's goin' out later to follow the trail."

"Well, I ain't gonna sit around and do nothin'."

"No. You're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse.", Carol complained, causing Daryl to roll his eyes. He wanted her to walk away. He wanted her to leave him the hell alone, for now. He was fine. His attitude was fine, and he was going out to find her damn daughter. Why she was bugging him, he didn't understand, "We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl."

Daryl turned, his heart dropping into his stomach somewhere. Hearing those words from the person who it meant the most to was devastating. Hearing Sophia's own mother give up on her was almost painful, "What?"

"I can't lose you too.", she whispered, the tears coming on. Daryl narrowed his eyes, his head trying to wrap around what he was supposed to do in that moment. He didn't know Carol. He didn't like it when women cried, but…what the hell was there to do? His confusion turned to anguish, and anguish turned to anger in one quick motion. Defeated, he dropped the reigns, slammed the stall door, and began walking away from her.

If she didn't want him to look for the little girl: Fine. If she didn't want him to care, didn't want him to bother: Fine. Why would he waste his time? The little girl wasn't his family. She was an unfortunate casualty of this new world, and he was the last to give up on her. Staring at the saddle, he lost hope, all at once. Fuck this…

He grabbed the saddle, lifted it, and attempted to throw it. What resulted, was his side ripping open with a vengeance, and his feelings just as hurt as before. Groaning, he grabbed his side and stomped away, avoiding Carol's grabby hands, "Just leave me be! Stupid bitch…"

* * *

I pulled my horse around, smiling at how well the horse had been broken. As I turned toward the stable, I noticed Daryl leaving, holding his side, with no horse. I kissed at the horse's ear, and took off in a trot toward him.

"Daryl! Hey…", I called to him, before I caught up and the horse trotted along with his fast paced stomp, "Daryl…Look at me…"

"What?!", he snapped, taking me off guard.

"Whoa…What hap-?", I noticed his hand was covered in blood, and narrowed my eyes. I pulled back on the reigns, and quickly jumped from the horse, to stand in front of him, "Stop. You're hurt."

"No shit. I'm fine…"

"No you're not. What happened?", I asked, holding a hand out to him.

"I'm fine…"

"STOP IT, DARYL! What happened?", I startled him a bit, as his head jerked back in a flinch, "I'm sorry…Hey. I'm sorry. Just tell me what's goin' on."

"Hurt myself lifting a saddle. I'm fine. I'm goin' on foot."

I nodded, removing his hand from his side with two fingers. The wound wasn't oozing, but it was open, nonetheless. I glanced up to his eyes, and saw nothing but determination. With another nod, I moved from in front of him, and followed him into the woods.

Past the first patch of woods was a clearing, with a large pond, a boat house, and a dock. I smiled brightly at the sight, and turned to Daryl. His scowl slowly faded, as he remembered the same memories running through my head.

"Care if I go in? It's a little chilly, but oh my god…", I laughed a bit, and he motioned toward the water, inviting me to do what I wanted. I quickly toed out of my boots, leaving them in the mud, and stepped up onto the dock. It was surprisingly clean, proving even more that the walkers had not touched this area. I tiptoed to the end of the dock, before shedding my shirt, and my jeans. With my body now healed, the water looked more than inviting. I covered my bare chest, and dove in, feet first.

As the water overtook my head, I fell into the familiar serenity, swimming a good ways underwater, and then re-emerged. Daryl was standing on the dock, waiting to see the top of my head when I came up.

"You should come in!", I called to him. He shook his head, taking a seat on the dock. The action brought back vivid memories of the many summer days we spent swimming, eating on the dock, and just being near water. Water. It defined much of our relationship. This was exactly what we both needed. Thank god for this little piece of heaven.

"I got stitches…", Daryl mumbled. He shifted from one foot to the other, before shrugging and toeing out of his boots. He removed his socks, stuffed them into the boots, and dipped both feet into the cold water.

He kicked like a child, his toes making small ripples in front of me as I swam to him. I reached out, smiling, and grabbed both his feet, swinging them.

"You know…if things were this way all the time…if we could stay here…", I started, holding his feet for buoyancy, "We could make a life for ourselves. There are plenty of empty houses around the area that haven't been touched. We could settle into one of them…have our own farm…"

"Be nice, wouldn't it?", he asked, almost smiling. He looked out over the water, before leaning back, letting the breeze blow over him. It was the most comfortable I had seen him since I joined the group. The knot in my stomach released itself, and I laughed.

"Yeah, it would. Give me a hand…", I answered, reaching a hand up to him. Like clockwork, he reached his right hand down, and drug me out of the water. I quickly covered my chest, feeling like I was hiding from my daddy again. In my bravery, I kneeled, took his face in my hands, and placed a heavy kiss against his lips. As I pulled away, I smiled, "I'm glad you didn't go out there…"

Daryl stared at me for a few seconds, looking between my eyes, before huffing with a small nod, "I ripped my stitches. Shit's sore…"

"I bet. You should let Hershel look at it."

"Nah…I'll be fine.", he whispered, staring down at my lips. I sucked them into my mouth, and turned my attention to the area of trees above his head.

"I think I should check in with Rick. If we're not gonna go out…I should at least see what Hershel has said.", I whispered, twirling one of his sideburns around my finger. He nodded slowly, and picked up his boots, still sitting.

"I'll be back there soon. Gonna sit here and…get some fresh air."

"Sounds good. Be careful, okay?", I replied, leaning forward to kiss his lips softly. He didn't kiss back as willingly, but when I pulled away, he was smirking. The action was comforting as I grabbed my shirt and jeans from the ground. I watched Daryl, as he stared at something across the pond. There was a farmhouse, and patch of weeds. Something, however, was keeping his attention. I shook my head and dressed, before stalking through the woods on my own.

* * *

I found Rick leaning against a tree. His hand was pinching the bridge of his nose, and his face was red.

"Rick? You okay?", I called to him, and I watched him straighten, as if I hadn't just seen his stance.

"Yeah…Yeah. I'm just a little tired. How about you? How's Daryl?"

"He found some water. He's down there now…", I answered with a small smile. I sighed as Andrea approached us, her hands on her hips.

"So, what's the plan?", she asked, not meeting my eyes as she spoke to Rick. He pointed to the hood of a nearby car, where he had spread out a map. We all approached it as he began pointing out his plan. It was solid, but it was a multi-man job. Andrea nodded, watching his hands closely.

"Rick?", Hershel called, startling us all. I didn't bother turning, as I kept staring at the map. A large red 'x' covered every area that we had searched. The grids were getting smaller, and the chances were becoming astronomical. It was no wonder that people's spirits were falling.

"We only have our guns out because we're going to look for Sophia.", Rick explained to Hershel, who nodded in understanding, brushing it off.

"Before you do that, I need your help with something."

"Count me in…", Andrea spoke up, self assurance in her voice. I rolled my eyes a bit, before Hershel waved her off.

"No. I just need Rick."

"Rick, I…Can we talk, later?", I asked him, and he nodded happily, patting me on the shoulder. I returned the nod, and glanced at Andrea briefly, before turning to make my way to the house.

"I'll be down at the barn keeping watch until you're ready…", she told him, and then ran to catch up to me, "Hey…I wanted to say something to you."

"Not now, Andrea."

"Please just…just look at me…", she called, grabbing my arm. I wrenched it from her, turning on her like I had never turned on anyone in my life, and when I was nose to nose with her, she continued, "Fair enough. I'm sorry for what happened with Daryl."

"Yeah? Well, sorry doesn't cut it, these days."

"I know. I was wrong…I…I didn't think.", she pleaded. I rolled my eyes, scoffing, and turned.

"Like that's anything new. Just stay away from me…and stay away from Daryl. My words still stand…", I called back to her, as I made my way up the steps, and into the house.

**…To Be Continued…**


	27. Chapter 27: Benefits

**A/N: First off, I wanna start this by saying that I'm waving a white flag. This scene does involve some sexy time...but no real smut. I have never written a sex scene...so go easy on me. Second of all, I facepalmed my way through most of the chapter, because I was embarrassed. I'm the biggest head-virgin of all time. I get embarrassed by the least little mention of smut...and so I don't write it. **

**If you're here for smut...back away, now. I said it like...25 chapters ago, and I'll say it again. I don't...write...smut.**

**Lastly, this is a complete flashback from July 2007. It's all Daryl/Shan, for the most part, and I really like how it turned out, although I DID facepalm my way through. Let me know what you think, PLEASE! I wrote a really long chapter for 26 and I got two reviews. It's a little disheartening, and I was reluctant to post this chapter so early, because of it.**

**Review...Message me...do SOMETHING to let me know you're still on board and like what you're reading. Okay, wrapping this rant up, right now. Enjoy the chapter!**

**Edit!: I wanted to let you guys know to look for edits. I'll let you know what chapter has been edited, but I am going back, with my better writing skills, and reworking the first several chapters. You guys are going to love the edits, and hopefully they will tie some things together where the things were vague.**

* * *

Chapter 27: Benefits

_That winter was the coldest of my life, the winter of 2006. Daryl didn't come around, as much, with the horses eating commercial feed. I fed them on my way in and out to and from school, and Daryl came by to bath them, and clean up once a week. It was a nice chance to talk to him, sure, but it was no more than a simple teaser._

_We never spoke about what happened at homecoming. I never murmured a single word to my parents, and the silent 'thank you' stayed unspoken. I spent most of my Fridays sitting on the fence, watching him work, and he spent most of his Friday nights on the boat dock, right next to me, in heavy jackets, watching the stars._

_My daddy made it clear that Daryl was a part of our little family, but that he didn't feel I should be spending as much time with him. He thought it would 'send the wrong message' to him. Merle only agreed, complaining that his brother was impressionable, and lonely._

_I, for one, found it to be total bullshit. Daryl was a grown man. He knew right from wrong, and he knew that being around me was right, for him. However, with the drama, it was hard to keep Daryl in one place for longer than a few hours, unless I met him in the woods. There was nothing romantic about it, although my feelings for him were obvious. I had suspicions that he had figured me out, and was humoring me for the sake of relieving some of his own drama. I could only imagine the hell that Merle put him through over our friendship._

_Even the Spring was miserable. The days began to grow longer, and school wore down. I began feeling the need to skip, and didn't attend my prom. It was all pointless, anyway. I came home, those last few afternoons, and fed the horses the last of their bland commercial food, and on the last day, I celebrated internally. _

_Daryl could come back to work._

_Things were different, though. He rode Riot in, let him loose in the corral, and went straight to work. After work, he smoked a cigarette quietly, hopped on Riot's back, and rode home. We exchanged small conversations every now and then, but mostly…he ignored my existence, which I could only think to blame Merle for._

_For two months, I dealt with it. I let it go, and dealt with it. I figured that it was better left alone. He was damaged enough, without my interfering on his personal life, but dammit…my birthday was coming up._

_"Can I ask a question?", I asked from behind him. He was squatted in front of the corral fencing, working with a piece of barbed wire. My voice startled him, and he flinched, quickly bringing his bloody thumb up to his mouth with a grumble._

_"Where'd you come from? Damn…", he complained. I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest. He didn't turn, only halted his movements, waiting for me to continue._

_"Is there a reason you're avoiding my family?"_

_His shoulders tensed for a second, before he went back to work quietly._

_"Not avoiding. Choosing not to mix work with…"_

_"Don't give me that bullshit, Daryl. I know what Merle's been sayin' to you.", I interrupted, squatting beside him._

_"Then why'd you ask? If you know all the answers…Maybe it ain't got nothin' to do with Merle. Maybe I'm tired of you actin' like a damn lost puppy, all the time! It gets old…always seein' yer face…We both know what happened. You think that's a good idea?"_

_"So, what? This winter was bullshit? All that shit that you said to me…all the nice things, the stories…the dreams and shit? Real nice…", I said quickly, before standing up, "I came out here to ask if you wanted to hang out on my birthday…like last year."_

_"Wait…", Daryl spoke up, turning. He stood and wiped his hands on his pants, before stuffing both of them into his pockets, "It's yer birthday, already? Don't seem that late…"_

_"Yeah. If you came around more…you might hear more about it.", I accused, watching his face fall, "I was thinking about taking a drive up to Red Top Mountain. I can't really stand to have cake, alone with my parents. I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 5 a.m…and you have the day off."_

_At first, I feared that he hadn't taken the hint, as he stared at me with narrowed eyes. After a few seconds of questioning my eyes, he let his own fall to the ground, and then turned to the fence, continuing his work._

_"Think about it…", I murmured, taking my own turn toward the woods._

* * *

_After my swim, I rode back to the farm in a bit of a haze. My body was sore and my mind was foggy. Honestly, I was sick of this place. I was sick of the constant angst that was around, following Daryl like a storm cloud. I was sick of my parents always interjecting their feelings about the way I looked at him, or my preference of working, over school activities. I was sick of being half mature, when really; I was as much of a woman as my mother, minus the marriage and giant house._

_I rode through the corral gates, hopping off my horse to shut the gate, and stomped into the stable. I set everything in order for my camping trip, and walked back to the house, where I was met by Merle._

_"Out til dark swimmin' in that snake infested pond?", he asked like a father. I scoffed, attempting to push past him, as I cleared the steps to the house. His hand flew back, pinning the door shut, "We need to have a chat…about my brother."_

_"Yeah? What about 'im?"_

_"I think I'm gonna take over for him, for a while. He seems to have some ideas…ideas that yer daddy's not gonna like too much. I can't have him screwin' things up for me…", Merle explained, watching my eyes. I understood perfectly. He was protecting his own. Daryl was growing attached to something that Merle saw as a threat: Me._

_"Yeah? I don't think that's a good idea."_

_"Why not? I got the same skills…ethic…I'll be here every morning…", Merle tried to explain, but I shook my head, raising a hand._

_"It's Daryl's job…"_

_"I need you to leave him alone…'fore you get him in trouble.", Merle said finally. The line came off as a threat, to me, and I narrowed my eyes, "You get what I mean, right?"_

_"You've made your point. I have to be up early for my birthday…So…Goodnight, Merle."_

_"I mean it, sunshine.", he mumbled, watching me the entire way into the house. As I shut the door behind me, he turned; stuffing his hands in his pockets, and began the trek back to his house._

_I let out a long sigh, stomping up the stairs, to my room, and collapsed on my bed. My mom would no doubt throw a fit about the wet mattress, from my bikini, but honestly? I didn't care. I drifted off to an anxious night's sleep._

* * *

_A knock at my door awoke me the next morning. Before I could say the words, my mom wedged her face in between the door and its facing, smiling brightly at me._

_"Good morning birthday girl!", she squealed, looking around to check for my decency. Satisfied, she pushed the door open, and entered, carrying the largest plate of pancakes I had ever seen in my life. They were topped with various fruits and what looked to be half a can of whipped cream._

_"Wow…mom…", I gasped, stretching my arms above my head. I smiled, taking the tray from her as she pulled my desk chair up to the side of my bed._

_"Are you still planning to take that trip?"_

_"Yes.", I said simply, shoving a large bite of pancake into my mouth._

_"I don't want you to go out there. I don't want to ruin your birthday, but…why can't you just stay here? I'll cook some food, invite the boys over…you can even have friends from school…"_

_"I'm going.", I whispered._

_"Well. You might want to ask your father for a vehicle. I don't want my Jeep leaving the driveway."_

_I glanced to her, not really surprised that she would pull this shit the morning of my birthday, and continued eating my food. I played it off. I tried to act as if it didn't bother me._

_"Thanks for the pancakes."_

_"I love you, too. Daryl's downstairs eating breakfast…", she hinted, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She stood, and left the room, leaving me to finish my breakfast in silence._

_As I made my way down the stairs, I smirked, seeing Daryl's foot peeking around the edge of the banister. He was pressed against the side of the stairs, his back against the wall._

_"Mornin'…", I half whispered to him, catching his attention. He glanced up from his plate of eggs, still hovering over them like a protective wolf. I received a grunt, in return, "Where's my dad?"_

_"Hardware store? I think?", Daryl answered with a question, staring up at my mom. She nodded, and he shrugged to me, pushing his plate away._

_"Good. Then, I'll tell you my plans. I'm going up to Red Top Mountain…and I need a ride."_

_My mom stopped what she was doing, watching us for a few seconds, before continuing. Her faltered movements caught Daryl's attention as his eyes moved around. He shrugged his shoulders, "I guess so…d'you ask yer mom?"_

_"Don't get all fatherly with me…", I complained, smiling at the scoff he let out, "She's the one who told me to ask you, basically."_

_"Basically…", he repeated. He stood, grabbing his hat, and gestured for the door, "We leavin'?"_

_"After I get dressed. You sure?"_

_"Yeah. It's yer birthday…", he murmured, signaling for me to head upstairs._

* * *

_The first leg of the drive was quiet, as Daryl's truck jerked and groaned along the highway. I had been to Red Top Mountain with my dad, plenty on fishing trips, but never for camping. This should be interesting._

_"You been up here, before?", I spoke up, as we began slowing through the mountain roads. Daryl nodded._

_"Deer hunting is real good up here. You'd like it…", he replied, and I looked back down at my lap with a smile on my face. This was already proving to be a decent birthday, "You know the water up here is pretty fast. It'll take a hike to find a good area to swim."_

_"I ain't here to swim. I just wanna be outside, away from Senoia, away from the farm. I figured you could use a break, too."_

_He nodded, chewing on his lip as we pulled through the gates of Red Top Mountain State Park. The sun flowing through the trees, and the squirrels running around were instantly the most calming thing I had seen in weeks, as we looked for a place to pull over. I left the decision to Daryl, since he knew these woods. He would know a way into them, and hopefully to a clearing._

_"Here we go…", he murmured, pulling onto a gravel road. He pulled over to the side, and put the truck in park. I picked up my backpack from the seat in between us, and exited the truck. The mountain air hit me immediately, and I breathed it deeply, "Nice, huh?"_

_I nodded, reaching down to squeeze his wrist, "Thanks for bringing me."_

_"Yer welcome. Now…let's get a tent up, 'fore it gets too hot."_

* * *

_"Oh my god! How many poles is there to this stupid thing?", I gasped, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I couldn't miss the laugh that escaped Daryl's lips as he placed another of the tent poles into its proper hole._

_"Slide that one in, and it should just set up…Go on, now!"_

_I carefully slid the pole into its notch, and watched the tent spring upward. I threw my hands in the air, and smiled widely, "I did it!"_

_"Yeah…You did it…", he mumbled, scoffing. He threw the bags into our little 'home', and stood back with a loud sigh. We were both drenched, thirsty, and honestly, I was thinking of nothing but water._

_"Where's the river, from here?", I asked, and he began to spin in a circle, listening carefully to the wind, and all the noises around him. After a second of deliberating, he pointed down the hill from where we were, "Good. Let's go."_

_"Through the woods? You sure yer up to that?"_

_"We'll see, won't we?", I said with a smirk, and took off running down the hill._

* * *

_"Wait up, now!", he called out as I reached the bottom of the hill, and my feet began squishing in the mud and moss. The river roared ahead, full force, before breaking off into a small lagoon. The lagoon was shockingly blue, from the filtering action of the rocks and trees. I smiled widely, and began using the rocks as stepping stones, like a graceful ballerina, "Hey! Wait up!"_

_"C'mon Dixon…channel your inner grace!"_

_"If I die…I'm killin' ya!", he yelled out, and began to follow my footsteps, walking along the rocks, as the water roared around our feet. To me, it was absolutely exhilarating. To him, it was probably the scariest experience in the world, which made it even funnier._

_I stepped off a large rock, onto a fallen tree, and climbed up to the top. There, it met with a rock facing, and a cliff that jutted out over the lagoon, begging for someone to jump off of it._

_"What's wrong? You outta shape?!", I called out to him, as he reached he halfway point, gasping and assessing the rocks like a puzzle._

_"You shut yer mouth!", he yelled, pointing a finger up at me. It was then that he realized where I was, and narrowed his eyes with a disbelieving sigh, stopping in his tracks, "How the fuck?"_

_"The tree, Daryl…"_

_His eyes met the large tree that I had run up, and he huffed, pushing forward. Before I knew it, he was gasping his way up the tree, and was standing next to me on the cliff. He took a step toward the edge, looking down at the blue water._

_"What's the point of bein' up here?", he asked, stepping back._

_"I'm goin' swimming. My day…My rules. C'mon…", I explained, slipping my shoes off. At first, he stood silently, as if he didn't believe that I was serious, but when I tugged my shirt over my head, his head turned, and his eyes closed, "Get undressed…c'mon."_

_"I don't think we should…"_

_"Don't give me that shit. You're not scared, are you?", I asked, and his eyes shot back to mine, as I dropped my pants, kicking them to the side._

_"Hell no! I ain't scared of…"_

_"Then jump.", I whispered, drawing close to his face, before taking a swan dive off the cliff. As I jumped, I felt his hand grab at mine, turning me in a weird direction, but hitting the water still felt amazing. It flowed around me, bubbled, and rushed through my ears. It was cold, and my burnt skin appreciated every bit of it, as I made my way back to the surface, grinning up at him._

_"Are you fuckin' crazy?! You don't know what's under there! Coulda killed yerself!", he screamed, echoing through the woods. Birds scattered, and I giggled._

_"Well, I didn't, did I?", I called back, and then raised both my hands to him as I floated along on my back, "Come on!"_

_"I ain't a dumbass…I know better."_

_"Either that, or you're a chicken shit!", I mocked, clucking like a chicken. His eyes closed for a second, as he took a step back from the edge, "Daryl!"_

_"I ain't jumpin'!"_

_I bit my lip, looking around the surface of the water for the best idea to get him into the water. Faking a drowning would probably get him hurt, and would result in anger, which I didn't want to see from Daryl. His tantrums were NOT pretty. Finally, I sighed, settling on something totally out there. I reached behind me, and slowly untied my bikini top, slipping it over my head with one hand, and untied my bottoms with the other hand. I held both up above my head and smirked._

_"Daryl! Look!"_

_"Wha'?", he asked leaning over the edge of the cliff, again. He narrowed his eyes, and looked away, realizing what was in my hand, "Put yer clothes on…somebody might see…"_

_"Give me a break, you prude! Ain't nobody been down here for months…Yer a chicken shit!"_

_"Am not! You best shut the hell up!", he called back down, pointing a finger._

_"Come down here and make me, unless of course…yer scared. Naked woman asks you to come in the water, and you refuse. What kind of man are you, anyways?", I giggled at the question, and could almost make out the red of his face, from as high as he was. He moved back from the edge again, and I sighed. He was no fun…_

_I lay on my back, paddling around the water for a few seconds, before a giant splash flipped me onto my stomach, water flooding my mouth. I swallowed more than I would have preferred, and came up sputtering. I was met with Daryl's grinning face, bare chest, and sneaky eyes._

_"There…Told ya.", he muttered, and I laughed, splashing water across his face. His arms instantly flew around my waist, dragging me under the water roughly. We both came up, spitting and sputtering, and I sighed, content with today. It was hot as hell, it was my birthday, and I was where I belonged. _

_"Asshole…", I sniggered, wrapping my arms around his neck. We were alone, and the air was suddenly different. His shoulders weren't tense, and he didn't flinch when I touched him, like normal. Instead, his trembling body moved with the water, and watched my face, "What is it with you, and birthdays?"_

_"What is it with you, and water?", he joked in return, "I just don't see no use in bein' miserable…"_

_"When's yours?"_

_"I dunno. Sometime in October.", he admitted, and I frowned. He had probably never been told his birthday, before. It was just something unimportant to his family. Suddenly, I felt terrible about the big deal my birthday seemed to be around my household._

_"October twelfth.", I whispered, scanning his eyes, "We'll do somethin', then. Maybe have a bonfire…"_

_"Nah, you ain't gotta…"_

_"I want to, Dare…", the nickname slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and he cringed a bit, "Just accept the acknowledgment…"_

_"Alright. October twelfth."_

_The air around us was thick enough to cut with a knife, as he continued to just stare at me, then over my shoulder, down to my chest, and back up. I smirked, and leaned forward boldly, pressing my lips against his. It was the third time I had tried, but the first time I received a preferred response._

_I pulled away, and watched his eyebrows furrow, staring at my lips. He fell into deep concentration, before pushing forward, to move us. I narrowed my own eyes looking behind me for a second, to be safe._

_"What're you?", I started to ask, as my back scraped against the cliff side, and his lips smashed into mine. It was a rough kiss, like the first one we had shared, his teeth clamping down on my lip as he pulled away. He scanned my eyes for signs of protest, and with a growl, lifted me up, my back slamming against the rocks; knocking the breath out of me as he kissed across my face, down to my neck, collar bone, and chest. Once again, the kiss read of his personality, as he kissed me a quick second, and pulled away, his lips covered in blood from the previous assault. I smiled, lust suddenly hazing my eyes over, and tightened my legs around his waist, egging him on._

_As he slowly inched his hips forward, my stomach lurched in nervousness, feeling him pressing against me. From all the talks I had had with the few girls I associated with, sex was painful. It was supposed to be this mind-blowing thing…but it was excruciating. I let out a shaky sigh as he pressed a little harder, and then all at once, shoving my back against the rocks heavily. I leaned my head down, biting his collarbone with squinted eyes, and a whimper that caused him to halt his movements._

_"You okay?", he asked, nipping my ear a bit. I nodded, releasing the skin from my teeth, and took a deep breath, as he began his slow and steady movements. I sighed, closing my eyes; taking in everything as the pain began to ease. His soft growls resonated through my entire body, and I met them with my own whimpers, as he sped. As the warmth began to build in my stomach, I noticed his bites and growls becoming more intense, his movements more sporadic, and I lost control of my thought process, throwing my head back against the rocks as a wave flew through me. Almost instantly, he clamped down on my shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut, and he cried out; a beautiful sound, to me…and the moving slowed to a stop._

_He backed off, still resting his head against he side of mine as he caught his breath. I sighed, completely content with the moment, and kissed the side of his face. How long we stayed there, just resting against the side of the cliff, I couldn't tell you, but it was the start of something. It was the beginning of something I never thought I would become._

_Friends with benefits._

* * *

_Over the next two months, our relationship blew like a whirlwind. Our work began slipping, as we made time for sex. Cleaning the stables, I would be blindsided, drug off into the woods and ravished. Other times, I would get a sneaky urge while carrying out tea, resulting in scarred knees that were difficult to explain to my parents. I was sure that my mother had found out about us, as she called for me every night, often interrupting us in the act._

_It was enjoyable, to say the least, and Daryl was as up in the air as I had ever seen him. His whole demeanor was changed, and my daddy made comments about him, his work ethic, and the simple fact that he spoke whole sentences._

_"I wonder what's gotten into that boy?", he asked at dinner one night, and I sniggered, almost aspirating my mashed potatoes. My mom's face grew red, as she attempted to ignore my admission._

_"He's just having a good time right now…", I whispered, pushing my plate away. I left him to think about that, as I ran through the back door. I jogged past the old tractor, the fence, and into the woods, where I was grabbed, and thrown to the ground. I smiled, as my hands were crossed across my chest, holding me down._

_"Little ladies like you shouldn't be out in the woods all alone…Ya never know what could come outta the dark…"_

_"Like you?", I asked, breathlessly._

_"Like me…", Daryl sneered, flipping me onto my stomach. He pulled me onto all fours, and made quick work of my shorts, shoving them down to rest against the backs of my knees. I gasped a bit, glancing behind me, as his belt buckle jingled, signaling its release._

_As he grabbed my hips, I scrambled, turning to tackle him onto the ground. I straddled his waist, both of us gasping, and I stayed still._

_"Maybe I'm not the one who should worry…", I whispered, bringing his face up to meet my own in a deep kiss. A movement in the woods caught my attention, despite Daryl's lifting my hips from his, lost in the moment, "Stop…"_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"I heard something…", I whispered, peering out into the darkness, toward the sound. He didn't bother with it, biting down on my collarbone to try and sway my attention, but the sound drew closer, and sounded like human footsteps, "Daryl…"_

_"It's just a coon or somethin'…"_

_"Well…well….well…", Merle mused from somewhere in the darkness. He could see us, but I couldn't see him. I quickly scrambled away from Daryl, pulling my shorts up. I buttoned them quickly, as he went to work on his pants and belt, "Hey, now! No need to break up the little…activity. I'm just headed to talk to the old man."_

_"Dammit Merle! Why don't you scare the hell outa somebody…", Daryl hissed, buckling his belt with shaky hands. Merle appeared out of the darkness, finally, clapping a hand on Daryl's shoulder, causing him to flinch._

_"Wouldn't be so scary if you weren't…engaging yourself in such…festivities."_

_I narrowed my eyes, not appreciating the condescending speak. I crossed my arms across my chest, and shifted to my other foot, watching Daryl, more than Merle._

_"This what you've been so happy about? Thought I told you…"_

_"You ain't tellin' me shit!", Daryl snapped, and I raised my eyebrows, impressed._

_"You go ahead, baby brother. You eat it up, now…get it out of yer system, but sooner or later it'll come back to get ya. Girls like this don't just appear out of thin air for guys like us…"_

_"Guys like you, maybe…", I sneered, and Merle let out a giggle, raising his hands in defense._

_"Hey! I warned you…That's all I did. I just let you know that you…and yer little…show…You ain't gonna take my brother down…"_

_With that, Merle threw his hands in the air, and left us. We stood for several minutes, just taking in what had just happened. He had to be more careful…_


	28. Chapter 28: Pretty Much Dead Already Pt2

**A/N: I had a lot more planned for this chapter, but decided that it would be rushed if I tacked it onto the end, and the flashback I had planned for the beginning would be out of place and severely rushed. So, you can look forward to that, hopefully in the next chapter, or tacked onto the beginning of the next chapter.**

**This chapter is short, and moves very fast. It was intense, and there was so much to do. I hope I did the episode at least a little justice with Shan.**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 28: Pretty Much Dead Already Pt. 2

"I'm sorry for what happened this morning…", Daryl whispered, as Carol stared at the Cherokee Rose in front of them. Her face was damp with tears, as it had been for the past week or so, and she turned to glance at him.

"Why?", she asked quietly, her voice shaking, "All this time, you've been looking…and I just want to ask why?"

Daryl thought for a second, holding his lip between his teeth. He took a breath, and narrowed his eyes, attempting a softened look, "Cause I think she's still out there…"

Carol smiled, turning her head back to the flower, and Daryl's stomach knotted. This wasn't the thing he was normally in the middle of, all the hopefulness and relief. It was something that he was almost taught to push aside, and just see what was actually there. Right then and there, Sophia was gone.

"Truth is…what else I got to do?", he asked, and Carol turned back to him, her face almost offended by his sudden answer. Relief swept over him, and he let out a breath, as she stepped forward and touched the flower.

"We'll find her…", she insisted, as if she had never heard his attempt at 'carelessness'. She smirked, and reminded him, more than ever, of Shan's mom. He couldn't help but let a small smile creep onto his own face, as he reached out and touched her arm.

"We will…"

* * *

"How's your guy doin'?", Patricia asked as soon as I entered the house. Her face was softened, and she seemed worried about him. I looked to the ground, before leaning against a bookshelf with a sigh.

"He's doing good. He's sore, obviously…but he's good."

"Good. You women need your men…", she whispered, staring down at the dish she was placing. She ran her finger around the rim of the plate, and sighed, as if waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat.

"I don't know you, and I didn't know much about Otis, but I know he was a good man. What happened to him…The way he went down…I'm so sorry. I'd never wish what you're going through on my worst enemy. I can't even imagine…the pain of knowing…"

She watched me with tearful eyes, before she nodded. I let the breath out that I was holding in, and sniffled, realizing suddenly that Daryl was almost gone. He had almost been killed. I had almost had to face the reality of what Patricia was going through. I was speaking my own fears aloud. She turned without another word, and walked into the kitchen.

I turned, realizing that Daryl hadn't made it back to the house yet, and stepped through the door to the porch, where Glenn sat. He had a soft smirk on his face, and was holding Dale's hat in his hand.

"Hey…", I whispered, dropping to my ass beside him. He didn't look up, staring at the grass beside the stairs, "Can I say I'm sorry?"

"Sorry for what?"

"I was rude, the other day. You're my best friend and I should have been there when you asked me…", I whispered, placing a hand on his knee. He glanced down at the hand, before placing his own over it, wrapping it into his larger palm, "I appreciate you, Glenn. You saved my life…and without you…I don't think I would have made it out of Atlanta. Daryl would never say it, but…he appreciates you, too."

"I know…", he whispered. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if something was getting to him, to make him so quiet, "I think Maggie likes me…"

I smirked, letting my hair fall over my face as I tilted my head, "And this is a bad thing?"

"It's a scary thing."

"Why do you say that?", I asked, glancing across the field as Daryl, and Carol walked toward us, slowly.

"Everyone has an expiration date. I feel like…getting close to someone…it's a waste of time."

"And pushing them away isn't? If she's into you…she's what you need, Glenn. It's part of your humanity, you know?", I whispered, tightening my own grip on his hand.

"But what happens if…it all just goes away?"

"That's not something we can be ready for, but...it happens. Denying yourself someone…because the might die…", I started, as Maggie appeared out of nowhere, taking a seat on the other side of Glenn. I smiled, squeezing his knee one more time, and stood, walking toward Daryl and Carol. T-dog and Andrea stepped up in front of us.

"You got any idea what's goin' on?", T-dog asked, shifting his eyes between mine and Glenn's. We both shrugged, and Andrea spoke up.

"Where's Rick? He ran off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a while ago…"

"Yeah you were…", Daryl answered, his eyes narrowed in annoyance, "What the hell?"

"He told us he was goin' out…", Carol whispered, and Daryl turned, fire in his eyes.

"Dammit, people! Ain't none of y'all takin' this seriously? We got ourselves a damn trail…Well…lookie here…", he snapped and calmed, all in one motion. I stepped to his side, trying to hold myself close as Shane approached, a gun in each hand, and the gun bag slung over his shoulder, "What's all this?"

"You with me, man?", Shane asked, not giving a thought to Daryl's previous explosion on him. He thrust a shotgun at Daryl's chest, and nodded to me. I assumed he was asking about my weapon, which Daryl was holding onto. I felt around, pulling the Python from his waistband, and waved it in front of me, making sure that he understood my annoyance. Shane passed us both to pass out more guns, "Time to grow up! It was one thing sittin' around here pickin' daisies when we thought this place was 'sposed to be safe. Now we know it ain't."

I turned Daryl to face me, watching his face as it contorted from confused, to pissed, to worried, and finally to indifferent. So many feelings spreading across his face at once told me that this couldn't be right.

"Then, give me the shotgun…", I whispered, answering his internal questions for him. He bit his lip a bit, and shook his head, pumping the shotgun, and stepped around me to follow Shane. I sighed heavily, meeting eyes with Maggie, as Shane approached Glenn.

"How 'bout you, man. You gonna protect yours?", he asked Glenn, who after a tiny moment of hesitation, took the shotgun from him, and loaded a shell into the chamber. Shane turned to Maggie, "Can you shoot?"

"Can you stop? You hand out these guns, and my dad will have you out by tonight…", she snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. Shane simply rolled his eyes, moving to the next person in line.

"Shane…We have to stay!", Carl yelled from the steps, and Shane approached him, attempting to hand him a gun.

"Dare…this ain't right…", I whispered, placing my hand on the shotgun he held to his chest. He wrenched it from my hand, holding it toward the ground, and drew himself close to my face.

"What you want me to do? Rick ain't here…I ain't startin' this now. Rick shows up, I'm right there with him. Until then, maybe we should consider that this is the right thing to do…"

"Going against Hershel's wishes directly is suddenly the right thing to do? Daryl, listen to yourself! You're going to blindly follow someone who wants to not only kill you to make a point…but that tried to…well you know what he did. You're going to just tag along like a soldier?", I asked, watching his eyes narrow.

"It's what we do…", he whispered, as if it was the most logical explanation to any opposition.

"No. It's what cowards do. Are you a coward?"

"What?..", he asked, stepping back a bit.

"Are you a fucking coward, Daryl?.."

"Oh shit…", T-dog called out, and Daryl dropped the look on his face, turning to the direction of T's gaze. Across the field, Rick and Hershel were leaving the woods, with Jimmy in tow. What was in front of them shocked us all. They were leading walkers, like sick dogs on a lead, out of the woods.

"What is that?", Shane asked, running toward them. Daryl sighed, and followed, trying to keep up with Shane's long strides as they sprinted across the yard.

"Daryl, wait!", I called after him, beginning my own sprint.

"What the hell're you doin'?!", Shane screamed, and I heard Rick's voice for the first time, hoping that he could diffuse the situation.

"Shane, man, just back off!", Rick screamed, continuing his walk across the yard. Hershel began to question our motives, sending Shane on another rampage. I managed to catch Daryl, and pulled myself in close to his back. He brought the shotgun up in a defensive stance. I could only assume he called himself protecting Rick, as the barrel brushed against the walker's head in front of him, "Let me do this and we'll talk!"

"What you wanna talk about, Rick?! These things ain't sick! They're not people! They're dead!", Shane screamed, pacing around the walkers. The motion seemed to get them more stirred up, and caused Daryl's entire body to tense in anxiety as he watched both Shane and the walker his sights were honed onto, "They're gonna kill all of us if we don't do somethin'!"

"Shane, stop!", Rick screamed out, and I gave him a look of pity. Someone in the group should have done something to calm Shane, or at least have him out of the area before Rick returned. It was our fault he was like this. I reached forward, offering to take the snare, but Rick pulled it from my reach with a shake of his head, and began calling out to Shane again.

"Hey Hershel, let me ask you somethin'. A livin' breathin' person…Could they walk away from this?", Shane asked, firing three shots to the chest of Hershel's walker. I jumped, as did most of the group, staring at Shane in disbelief, "That's three rounds in the chest! Could someone who's alive just take that? Why is it still comin'?"

He fired two more shots, causing the group to flinch, "That's it's heart! It's lungs! Why's it still comin'!"

"Shane! Enough!", Rick screamed.

"You're right, man. That is enough…", Shane almost whispered, stepping toward the walker. Without hesitation, he blew its brains out, amongst the sobs and gasps of everyone around him. I stayed still, "Enough…Riskin' our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough, livin' next to a barn full of things that are tryin' to kill us! Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now…If y'all wanna live, if y'all wanna survive, you gotta fight for it! I mean fight! Right here, right now!"

Shane took off in a sprint, straight for the barn doors, and my stomach fell. I scooted away from Daryl, holding my gun down to my side.

"Hershel! Take the snare! Hershel!", Rick screamed, and I reached out, placing a hand on the handle. Rick shoved me hard with his elbow, causing me to stumble and stare, "Stay back! You stay there! Hershel, listen to me, man! Take the snare!"

I regained my composure, and made a quick decision. Rick didn't want my help, but he obviously needed it.

"Shane! Stop this!", I called out, running to his side. My gun remained in my right hand as I stood next to him, "Please! Think of what you're doing!"

"I know what I'm doin'! I'm savin' us all! I'm makin' the hard calls…", he said, breaking the first lock. I watched, and took a shaky breath, grabbing his arm. My ass hit the ground before I really knew what had hit me, "Get the fuck back!"

I took a second, as he broke another lock, and brought my hand up, wiping a bit of blood from my nose. I had apparently caught an elbow. I scrambled, crawling back to T-dog, who hoisted me off the ground, just in time for Shane to finish off the last lock. The doors creaked open to his screaming, which was muffled by the roar of adrenaline and fear coursing through my brain, as the walkers began to file from the barn.

Daryl pushed past me, and began mowing the walkers down, along with Shane, Andrea, and soon T-dog. I narrowed my eyes, finding it hard to witness our demise, as Hershel's entire family (or shall I say 'walker family') were blown away. I raised my gun, wanting to help, but decided against it. Instead, I turned and took care of Rick's walker with a quick shot to the forehead. He did nothing but glare, throwing the snare to the ground, as the gunfire continued around us.

"Rick…", I called out, stepping toward him. What I received was a rough grab to my arm, as he slung me back behind him, toward Lori and Carl. I stepped around them, and fell into Carol's outstretched arms.

"Stay back!", he screamed to all four of us. Great. Now I was back in the women and children group. I wrapped my arms around Carol, not paying attention to her staring at face. It was just a little blood…I was fine.

The gunfire calmed, and the growls of the walkers ceased, as we stood there in silence, watching the door. Daryl didn't budge, waiting for more. However…no one was ready for the last of the walkers…

A small growl erupted, and all guns were raised and ready. We saw movement. Then, a tiny hand grabbed at the door, hoisting its equally tiny body forward through the gap.

I knew. From the second her little feet began scuffling out the door, I knew. A glimmer of hope shot through my eyes, as Sophia stumbled across the gravel. She was filthy, but we had finally found her. As she raised her head, that glimmer faded. Her eyes were dead. There was a chunk of her neck missing…and her eyes were dead.

"Oh no…", Carol whispered, and I held her a little tighter.

"Carol…"

"Sophia! Sophia…oh no…", she began sobbing, as she pulled and swatted her way out of my arms, into a slow and unsteady run, "Sophia!.."

I reached for her, walking slowly after her, until Rick shoved me back heavily again, pointing a finger at my face. I watched from over his shoulder, as Daryl caught her, slowly lowering her to the ground as she sobbed. Lowering my head, I closed my eyes, realizing that not only was our stay here over with, but Carol would never forgive me. She would resent me for the rest of my life, because I was there. I was the last one to see Sophia alive, and I couldn't save her. The blood dripped from my nose, traveling the long five feet to the gravel, and Rick stepped forward from my side. His stride was definite, and his shoulders were tense as he raised his gun slowly, and shot, dropping his head solemnly as Sophia hit the ground. I couldn't be here anymore. I turned around, and crossed my arms over my chest, making my way to camp.

* * *

Daryl dropped to the ground with Carol, not only because he was protecting her. He needed to sit down, before he hurt himself, or someone else. He buried his face into her shoulder, only glancing every now and then at Sophia's body staggering toward them. A part of him felt as though he should be the one to kill her, and another part of him wanted to break down and cry, right there.

Gripping Carol's shoulder a little tighter, he stared, watching every second of his failure, before Rick ended it with a single shot. Carol's sobs rang out, and Daryl broke even more, his chest in so much pain that he feared a blackout. He huffed, and positioned himself to stand, dragging Carol with him.

"Don't look…", he whispered to her, pulling her to his chest. He had full intentions of consoling her, of making sure she was okay, when she swung around and shoved him, running to the RV. He stopped, looking around for Shan, and then continued after Carol.

Stepping into the RV was hard. It was more difficult than he would have liked to walk up, and admit to a woman that he cared. He cared that she was hurting. He cared that she had just lost her only family…because he knew exactly how she felt. Losing Merle hurt. It still hurt, and he wished he could tell her that the pain would go away, but truth was: It only got easier to deal with.

He silently took a seat atop one of the counters, and watched her as she cried to herself, twirling one of Sophia's headbands around her hands. She turned to glance at him, something similar to accusation in her eyes as she squinted, and turned back to the window, causing his stomach to drop. Did she blame him? Maybe she blamed Shan for leaving Sophia in the woods…and he was accountable by association.

He continued to stare, chewing at his lip for what seemed like hours. Every now and again, he would take in a breath, feeling the urge to talk to her, to ask how she was, but instead, he would sigh and keep staring.

"You should go help the others…", she whispered, looking down at her hands, "Check on Shan."

"I'd rather be here. They're alright…you ain't."

"Whatever…", she whispered again, reaching up to flick a tear away from her cheek, and they fell back into silence.

After several minutes, Lori knocked on the door, and entered quietly, placing a hand on Daryl's leg. Daryl flinched, but allowed it, nodding his head at her.

"They're ready…", she whispered, frowning as Carol shook her head, "C'mon.."

"Why?", Carol asked hopelessly. Lori glanced up at Daryl.

"Cause that's yer little girl…", he whispered in response, watching Carol with narrowed eyes.

"That's not my little girl. It's some other…thing…", Daryl narrowed his eyes even further, fighting with the pain in his chest. He brought a hand up, and rubbed, scratched, doing anything to try and get the pain to stop. He even wondered for a second if he was having a heart attack, "My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought Shan…But she didn't cry herself to sleep at night. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago…"

Daryl's chest burned at the words even more, and his head began to swim in anger. He fought the angry tears, picking at his fingernails, attempting to force himself to stay glued to the counter. The disappointment only grew worse as he sat there, and finally, he stood, giving a soft growl of anger, and exited the RV.

* * *

I scraped the last of the dried blood from my upper lip on my way to the house to find Daryl. As I placed my foot on the first step, I noticed Glenn loading a shotgun carefully. He seemed determined, like he was on a mission, which caused me to narrow my eyes at him as Maggie approached his side, and engulfed him in a kiss. Smirking, I turned, instantly meeting eyes with Rick.

"Where are you headed?", I asked, motioning to the gun in his hand and the open car door beside him.

"Hershel…He went into town, to a bar. We're going after him."

"I'm goin'.", I whispered, stepping forward.

"No…", he answered definitely. I shook my head.

"Rick."

"I said no!", he snapped, the fatherly look returning to his eyes.

"AND I SAID I'M GOIN'! Stop trying to control me! I'm not stayin' here, with Carol staring at me the way she does. She just lost her daughter…I get it…but dammit! I'm responsible."

"What? Whoa whoa whoa…what makes you think that?", he asked, and I placed a hand on the car door, inhaling sharply.

"I'm goin'...end of discussion. I can shoot, and if something happens and you guys are overrun with Hershel wasted, who's gonna have your back?"

He thought it over, pinching the bridge of his nose, and with no answer, picked up his things to throw into the old truck. His only signal of agreement came when stood back, allowing me entrance to the truck, first. Satisfied, I sunk into the old leather, and stared across the yard to our tents as Glenn entered and we took off.

Daryl wouldn't be pleased, but right now, I had to think of myself, and he had to take care of Carol.


	29. Chapter 29: Nebraska Is For Lovers

**A/N: This is the longest chapter yet. It's very intense for me to write, and now I wonder how well it will go over. Either way, I hope you enjoy and review a lot. The next couple of chapters should be real interesting for Daryl. :)**

* * *

Chapter 29: Nebraska Is For Lovers

_"You son of a bitch!", I screamed, my hand finding the first glass it could, chunking it at Merle's face. He ducked as the glass smashed against the wall, before leaning back up with a glare. He pursed his lips into a kissy face, and winked, crossing his arms across his chest, "What FUCKING business is it of yours who your brother FUCKS?!"_

_"You watch your mouth, young lady!", my dad decided to chime in. Merle giggled a bit, "It's my business, because you're my daughter."_

_"And I didn't ask you. I asked that son of a bitch. Don't forget…I'm eighteen!"_

_"Eighteen or not, you're in my house…you go by my rules. I don't want you spending so much time…with Da-", my dad started, and I exploded._

_"THEN I'LL LEAVE! GOD…DAMMIT THIS HOUSE! If I'm happy…you're upset. If I'm sad…you're upset! What the hell do you want me to do?"_

_"I want you to be happy! I do! I just don't want you to ruin your life…", my dad said, and instantly his face contorted, realizing how it would sound to me. I narrowed my eyes, glancing to Merle, who was decidedly less perky. My dad had admitted it, out loud, that the boys were going nowhere. They were nothing but a farm hand and a motorcycle mechanic. In the big scheme, they were both failures._

_"We're done here. If you don't respect me…and you can't respect what I want…then I'm leaving."_

_"Don't you go out there stirring up shit with my brother.", Merle spoke up, shoving away from the counter to stand straight._

_"FUCK…YOU! You've ruined EVERYTHING! What exactly is your problem with it? Are you jealous that your brother is actually getting a piece of ass that he doesn't have to pick up behind a bar? Are you torn up over the fact that you can't beat him down and feed him full of bullshit, because he's always here? Get over yourself!"_

_"What exactly is in it for you? Huh? You run around here like some little beach bunny in your bikini, tryin' to lure him in. What do you have to gain? Maybe I don't want ideas in his head! Maybe…Maybe I'm the only one here who sees who you really are!", Merle half screamed, drawing close to my face. I leaned in even closer, as my dad placed a hand on each of our chests._

_"And what's that? Go on. Say it."_

_"I don't think that's necessary…", my dad whispered, trying to push us apart._

_"A no good…lyin' slut…", Merle hissed, and my dad stopped cold, simply staring. I narrowed my eyes, drawing a fist back, and punched Merle's nose with a disgusting squish. Satisfied, I smirked, stepping back in time for my dad to subdue Merle from behind, placing him in a chokehold._

_"Let's relax…C'mon…stop fightin'…", Dad whispered into Merle's ear. Merle slowly relaxed enough to be released, bringing a hand up to his nose. He swept away the stream of blood, and pointed a bloody finger at my face._

_"You stay the hell away from my brother…", he sneered, before shoving the front door open, "C'mon!"_

_I ran outside behind him, grabbing Daryl's hand as he stood from the front step, "You don't have to go, Dare..."_

_"I'll see you tomorrow."_

_"Daryl…", I whispered, begging him not to follow Merle. They could disappear over night for all I knew._

_"I'll see you…tomorrow.", he whispered finally, leaning forward to place a small kiss on my forehead. I sighed, watching them walk away as my dad approached from behind. Clenching my fists shut, I turned and pushed past him._

_"You know I'm right…", he said softly as I passed._

_"Just leave me alone, dad. Please?"_

_"I can send him away. If I was any more of a father, and less than a friend…I would. I'm asking you to spend some time with other people…", he explained, as I started up the stairs._

_"Yeah. Whatever. I'm going to bed…long day of work tomorrow. Goodnight, John."_

* * *

Daryl stepped into the farmhouse, his head still reeling over the day's events. Carol wanted nothing to do with him, and who knew where Shan was. As soon as he entered the house, he caught a glimpse of Maggie's arm, as she gathered towels for laundry. Awkwardly, he stepped up beside her, and chewed his thumb.

"What?", she asked, not bothering to turn to him.

"You got any idea where Shan ran off to?"

"She's with Rick….goin' after my dad.", she explained. Daryl shifted uncomfortably at the news, and narrowed his eyes.

"Rick took her on a run?"

"I guess. He scooped up Glenn, and she was in the truck when they left. All I know…", she mumbled, pushing past Daryl to the front door. Daryl sighed, and the downward spiral began. His chest burned in annoyance and anger. Rick took her. He just…let her go out, after all the pulling her back. Not only that, but she chose to go, no doubt, didn't even bother to tell him.

Chewing his lip, he stormed from the house, stomping down the steps loudly. Screw this. Screw the whole nice-Daryl bullshit.

* * *

"How's yer head?", Rick asked from the front seat. I finished my climbing, positioning myself in the middle of the backseat. I shrugged, sniffling my sore nose in the process.

"Just my nose…", I whispered, glancing into the rearview mirror at Rick's eyes.

"I don't think I have to say what I'm thinkin' right now.", he murmured, "You knew he was out of control."

"I don't need a father. I'm here to gather Hershel. Save it."

Rick gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he twisted his hands along the steering wheel and kept driving. Satisfied that he had shut up, I leaned my head back, and listened to Glenn spark conversation with him.

Daryl was going to be pissed. He would probably explode, and if worst came to worst…he might throw punches. I was ready for it. I knew what I was doing, and he was busy with his own issues. Somewhere in my mind, I had to believe that he too blamed me for Sophia…

"I knew about Lori…", Glenn explained, and I exited my head, staring ahead at him.

"I figured.", Rick whispered, stopping the truck. He opened the door, and I followed suit in the back, hurrying to his side.

"I'm sorry.", Glenn continued, and Rick shook his head, no doubt wanting Glenn to shut up.

"Don't be. You did what you thought was right. In this case…it wasn't.", Rick answered. He glanced back to Glenn with a small smile. I glanced back as well, mostly to make sure Glenn was following, as we made our way toward the bar.

* * *

Daryl sat alone, out by an old homestead off the property. He thought a couple of times about moving his tent out here, but figured against it. There was no watch, or anything, and who knew if there were walkers in the woods. He lifted one of the sticks he had plucked, and looked it over, as he drew his knife. He laid the stick across his lap and began sharpening it, fashioning his own arrows.

"Movin' to the suburbs?", he heard from somewhere beside him. He sighed, but continued his sharpening. Maybe Lori would get the hint and would leave him alone. Maybe she would just run back across the yard, and realize that she wasn't his type. He scoffed, until she continued, "Listen. Beth's in some sort of shock. We need Hershel."

"Yeah…So what?", he murmured, checking his work out.

"So, I need you to run into town real quick and bring him and Rick back…", she continued, staring at him as if he cared, "Daryl…"

"Yeah? I betcha he went window shoppin'. You want him…you go fetch him yerself. I got better things to do…", Daryl answered, his chest cramping at the idea that he had just admitted he didn't care if Shan came back or not. He did, though. The whole reason he was out here was to avoid questions…to avoid sad eyes. Shan was trying to get herself killed, and there was nothing he could, or would do about it. She dug her grave; Rick too.

Lori scoffed, eliciting a flinch from Daryl. She hadn't spoken to him much, but he at least knew that she wasn't going to let this one go. Not by a long shot…

"So…That's it? You're just gonna sit here, and twiddle your thumbs while your wife is out there? We need them back here…all of them. She's your responsibility, Daryl…"

It was Daryl's turn to scoff at the word 'wife', and he halted his movements, turning to her with narrowed eyes, "She ain't my wife…You know what? Why don't you follow along with all the other moochers around here, and mind yer own damn business! Dumb bitch…"

"What's wrong with you? How could you be so selfish?"

"Selfish?! I's out there lookin' for that little girl every single day. I took a bullet and an arrow in the process. Don't you tell me bout gettin' my hands dirty!", he screamed, waving his knife in her face. She didn't back down much, only stepped back and took a deep breath, as he continued, "You want them idiots, have a nice ride! I'm done lookin' for people…"

"And what if they get caught up? What if your wi-…What if Shan dies? Huh? Could you live with yourself?", Lori chimed in, as Daryl set back down. He glared at her, as she drew her face inches from his, like a mother.

"Did it before…Hell, I wish she had've stayed gone…", he sneered.

"You can't mean that. I know better…"

"Get the hell away from me! I hope they get themselves killed! Outa my damn hair with the rest of ya…Give me an excuse to be on my way. Better on my own…", Daryl's voice was broken, like an angry boy, and he regretted speaking. Lori stood, pity in her eyes as she turned and walked back toward the house. Now…waiting for Shan to return would be a million times harder…

* * *

"Hershel?", Rick asked, as he led us into the bar. His gun was raised ever so slightly, when Hershel turned his head to speak.

"Who's with you?"

"Glenn and Shan…", Rick answered.

"Maggie send him?"

"He volunteered…as did Shan. We all want you back home…safe…", Rick reasoned, and I stepped closer to him, to close the door behind us, "So…let's finish this back at home. Hershel…Beth collapsed. She's in some…sort of state, must be in shock. I think you are too…"

"Maggie's with her?"

"She needs you…", I whispered, and Rick nodded, keeping his face close to Hershel's.

"What could I do? She needs her mother, or rather to mourn. I robbed her of that…", Hershel croaked out, as Glenn glanced through the windows from behind me. I turned, following his sight to the street, where a couple of walkers lazed about. By nightfall, there could be thirty…or more.

"We have to move this along. If it gets dark on us…we're screwed…", I whispered to Glenn. His breathing was shaky as he stared at the walkers, every fiber of his being thinking of shooting them. We both knew better, and turned back to Hershel.

"Just keep your eyes open…That's our job. Rick will get Hershel's mind back.", Glenn answered simply, watching the exchange. Rick spoke to Hershel in a desperate tone, reminding me that aside from Daryl, he was my closest of kin. Every thing about him reminded me of my father. He held himself professionally, but let all his walls down for the ones he loved, and Hershel was one of those people.

Rick's face began to fall, however, as Hershel all but said that he deserved to die. He admitted that he was better off torn apart by walkers than giving his girls more misery. Rick turned, walking back to us.

"So, what do we do, wait til he passes out?", Glenn asked, watching Hershel carefully.

"Yeah, Rick. We can't…We can't stay here any longer. It was supposed to be an in and out thing."

"And you knew what you were signing up for. You chose to come. Now deal with it. We're not leaving without Hershel.", Rick snapped, his blue eyes cutting holes into my own. I nodded slowly, glancing to Hershel.

"Just go…", Hershel called over his shoulder, and Rick's head shot up in annoyance.

"I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe…", Rick responded quietly.

"Like she promised that little girl?"

My stomach dropped. I came to get away from the drama surrounding my involvement with Sophia's disappearance, and Hershel was using it as a dagger. Glenn's hand reached my own, picking up my little finger, as if I was going to attack Hershel, or something.

"You just want us to leave you here…to…to drink yourself to death? Leave your girls alone?", Rick asked, stepping forward in defense.

"You people are like a PLAGUE! You come to me…and I do the Christian thing. I give you shelter and you WRECK IT ALL! You're supposed to be their leader!"

"I AM being the leader. I'm here now!", Rick screamed right back, before taking a deep breath as Hershel chimed in again, and I turned to the window. A familiar Jeep pulled through the town, and I froze. I couldn't say a word. I couldn't do anything. I just stared, as it parked, followed by two other trucks. Unfamiliar faces exited the vehicles, taking out the walkers in the street silently, before pillaging the various cars that surrounded them. I didn't realize I wasn't breathing, until a sharp pain in my chest caused me to gasp, and turn back to the group.

"We have to wrap this up…", I whispered to Glenn as I approached him. I received a nod in return, as if I was just speaking of the walkers. I shook my head, "Glenn there's…"

"Well son of a bitch…", a man whispered from the front of the bar. We all turned to see the man, who I recognized immediately. I gulped, quickly shuffling to Rick's side, and in between a pillar and the bar. Rick gave me a look of confusion, before smiling at the men, like a proper gentleman.

"Well…Hello, there…", Rick whispered, his hand not even close to his gun. I began to wonder if he had even met anyone hostile since the beginning. I began to wonder if he knew how dangerous humans could be.

The man took a seat, as his bodyguard look alike made his way to my side of the bar, like they were boxing us in. I glared, but kept my position behind the pillar as Rick pulled a bottle and began pouring shots.

"I'm Dave. That scrawny little douchebag over there…that's Tony. We're from Philadelphia…but came from the Atlanta way…shit hole that is…", the man spoke, and I glanced to Rick's face, noticing the disbelief, and slight look of distrust in his eyes. Maybe he knew why I was hiding.

"I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people.", Glenn said cheerily, as Rick handed him a shot glass.

"Rick Grimes…", Rick introduced himself, turning back to the men. I blanked the bar out; concentrating on the way my hands moved as Rick explained that we had lost a lot of good people.

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. We lost three of our men in Atlanta…Long story, but here's to better days, and to our dead…", Dave cheered, and I felt sick, listening to him speak. That scumbag. If I had twice the nerve that my brain seemed to, I would have pulled my gun right then and there…blown both their brains out, and moved on, but I stayed quiet, "How bout you, sweetheart? What's your name?"

I didn't say a word, until Rick brought over a shot glass, and gestured for me to come out. I shook my head, my eyes meeting his in the most intense stare I had ever given him. Everything in me begged him not to make me face these men, and as if he understood, he handed me the shot glass, and turned back to the men.

"Her name's Amelia. She doesn't talk much…", Rick explained, and I began to feel nauseous. I gagged a couple of times, before I was no longer able to keep it down, and ran through the back door, emptying my stomach in the storage room. The sudden anxiety attack roared in my ears, and I wanted to go home. I just…wanted to go home. After a few seconds of standing in the dark with my head down, I was able to pick myself up, convincing my brain that in a few hours…I would be back at the farm, and these men would be gone.

I took a deep breath, and lowered my head, my hair covering my face. I stepped out of the room, and grabbed Glenn's belt, burying my face in his side. His arm came around, holding me close as Dave's conversation silenced, his eyes narrowed.

"Do I know you, sweetheart? You look real familiar…", he asked, and Glenn's entire body tensed, as did my own. After a few seconds of silence, he scoffed, "She's really NOT a big talker, is she? You still hangin' around Daryl Dixon?"

Rick's entire body shifted to the opposite foot as his shoulders rose in defense, suddenly hyper aware of the men in the room. I sighed, my body shaking as I waited for shit to hit the fan. These were not your normal friendly survivors. There was only one reason they had talked us up this long…

"We have to go…", I whispered, and Glenn nodded, his own breathing shaky as Rick attempted to talk the men up, and guide their attention from me.

"You guys are a long ways from Philadelphia…What drove you south?"

"Rumors, mostly…", Dave answered, his eyes tearing from the curtain of my hair, to look at Rick, "We heard there was a refugee camp in D.C. but could never get through. So, we hauled ass off the highway, and ended up here…or rather…Atlanta. Found out it ain't in much better shape…"

"Yeah, one guy said there was a train…running through Nebraska. Low population…lots of guns. Sounds good, doesn't it?", Tony spoke up, and I flinched, almost having forgotten his presence.

"How bout you guys?", Dave asked Rick. I listened to Rick shift, again, as he answered.

"Fort Benning, eventually."

"I hate to piss in your cornflakes, officer…but we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. He said the place was overrun.", Dave explained in a solemn voice. I began to wonder if he was planning to charm his way into Rick's head, to get inside. I would die first.

"Fort Benning is gone?", Glenn asked, his muscles tightening. Dave nodded sadly, taking the last sip from his glass.

"Don't look like you guys are hangin' your hats here, anyways. You holed up somewhere else?", Dave asked. I pulled my gun from my pants, carefully pulling the hammer back at the question, and silently begging Rick to do the smart thing.

"Not really…", Rick answered simply.

"Those your cars out front? I mean…we're livin' out of ours. Those look kinda empty…clean. Where's all your gear?"

"We're with a larger group. We're out scouting, thought we could use a drink.", Hershel answered, and my head dropped again. Enough with the talking. I had to kill them. I had to kill them both, or we would never make it out of here alive, especially with Hershel's drunken state.

"We're thinkin' about setting up camp around here. Is it safe? I mean...it must be. You guys have women."

"A woman. And yeah, it can be safe.", Rick snapped. He had figured out the issue here. The room was tense, as Dave took in what Rick had just said, and the way he said it.

"Daryl Dixon isn't with you…is he?"

"Never heard of him in my life.", Rick answered for me, in a calm and collected voice.

"Good kid…Shame we couldn't run across him. Good kid…", Dave began repeating himself, staring straight to me, "Course…she'd be about the only person lookin' for him, now. Wouldn't she?"

"Why don't we just leave her out of this. She's had enough for the day…", Rick murmured quietly, and Glenn's arm tightened around me. I could tell that he was itching to leave, just as bad as I was, but the conversation continued.

"I apologize, sweetheart. So! You guys set up on the outskirts somewhere? A new development?", Dave continued, and his extra hefty friend stood, walking to the other side of the room. Even five feet from me, I could smell the familiar odor of cigar smoke and sweat…flooding my brain with memories from Atlanta.

"Trailer park or somethin'? A farm?", he chimed in, causing me to flinch heavily, my fist meeting my cheek for protection. Dave began singing 'old McDonald', adding to the tension.

"You on a farm? Is it safe? You got food…water…", he asked, as his friend pissed on the wall, like some sort of cave man. That's all those assholes were…cavemen…

"We've said enough.", Rick spoke. His fatherly tone was back, and there was a definite air to his voice.

"Whoa…I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We can pool our resources…maps.."

"I'm sorry, but that's just not gonna happen…", Rick cut him off, "We can't take in any more, and not to be rude…but you're making our girl rather uncomfortable.."

Dave sniggered, scratching his eyebrow, "I thought we were friends. I mean…we've got people we've gotta look out for too."

"We don't know anything about you, except that you're obviously acquainted with one of our own. I'm just looking out for the better interest, here.", Rick whispered, staring Dave straight in the eyes.

"You're right. You don't know anything. You don't know what we've had to go through…what we've had to do."

I glanced out from under Glenn's arms to check Rick's stance. Half of me wanted to make sure that he was still on the same path, and half of me was interested in seeing the fire that I hoped would come up. That fire blazed like nothing I had ever seen before, and he gritted his teeth, waiting for Dave to move.

"It's just…not gonna happen.", Rick whispered.

"Man, this is bullshit…", Dave's man chimed in, and Rick's head snapped to him, still whispering.

"Calm down."

"Man don't EVER tell me to calm down! I'll shoot you three assholes in the head and take your girl…and your damn farm. You don't know who the hell you're messin' with, pal…", the man snapped, and Rick rose to his feet, pulling his gun slowly. He stepped to the side, making a gap between Glenn and I, and the stranger.

"Whoa! Relax! Nobody's killin' anybody. Right, Rick?", Dave singsonged, as he hopped over the bar. They had Rick surrounded, and he still seemed to remain calm. Dave leaned behind the bar, pulling up a bottle, "We're just friends having a drink…"

Rick watched, his eyes scanning the entire area behind the bar, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon, as Dave poured a glass of whiskey.

"You know what it's like out there…", Dave mumbled.

"Yeah. I do. I've had to piece together what was left of someone…who came from Atlanta. I know exactly what it's like. That's why you gotta understand…", Rick began to explain, but quickly halted, blowing Dave's brains out. As Dave fell, his gun fell from his hand, smashing against the counter. Rick had killed him in defense, not that it made any difference to me. I ducked, Glenn covering my head, as the gun blast took me off guard. Rick turned quickly, shooting Dave's friend in the chest, twice, no remorse on his face. He finished him off, and stood still as Glenn stared on with wide eyes.

There they were. Two more assailants: Dead. I should have smiled or something. I should have thanked Rick, but all I could do was regret my decision to come with them. I regretted not going back to my tent, moving it to the woods or something. Anything would be better than this realization. Though, if I thought about it, Rick may have – for whatever reason – allowed both men to come back to the farm, had they not recognized me.

Glenn pulled, dragging me with him as he rounded the edge of the bar, "C'mon…I got ya. We're goin' home."

I stood, pushing my wet hair from my face, as I collected myself. Glenn reached to both my cheeks, wiping the tears and dirt from them with a small smile. Still shaking, I forced a labored smile onto my own lips, and nodded quickly. I was just ready to get back, find Daryl, and collapse…tell him everything.

Rick went through the larger man's pockets, taking everything he could find, which consisted of a few shotgun shells and cigars. He pocketed the items and turned to us, eying each. He reached forward, squeezing my shoulder, and then turned to guide us from the bar. As we reached the door, headlights glared against the dusty glass.

Glenn drug me to the wall, and hit the floor beside me, his arm coming around to hold my mouth. I reached up, wrenching his hand away, and with shaky breathing, pulled my gun as we waited.

"Dave? Tony?", a male voice called from outside the door. Glenn tensed even more, holding the top of his shotgun against his forehead. Against my elbow, I could feel his heart racing, almost meeting the pace of my own, "I heard shots…Maybe they're in here…Dave?! Tony!"

"Ronnie said to stay close!", a different voice scolded, and the footsteps began to retreat. Rick stayed still, and seemed to be counting, before he scuffled to squat beside Glenn, Hershel following suit.

"Do you think they left?", Hershel asked, and Rick shrugged softly, looking around the bar.

"We can't stay here any longer. If we hurry, we can run out back, make it to the car."

We all nodded, and Rick met my eyes, giving me a quick nod of acknowledgement. We all began to stand, and a gunshot threw us all back down to the ground, my trembling hands covering my ears as I cowered beside Glenn. I was no good to them. I was terrified. I was damaged, and this was the worst idea I had ever come up with. Rick peeked over the edge of the door, as the men spoke of walkers, approaching the doors.

"Shit…", Rick hissed, bringing his gun up in preparation. I did the same, though at the rate my hands were shaking, I had more of a chance at shooting Rick or Glenn on accident, than actually hitting anyone that came through the doors.

As the door began to creak open, Glenn panicked, running to slam it shut with his body weight. Both Rick and Hershel grimaced. Now the men would know we were here. Now they knew we were probably hostile.

"Yo! Someone in here?!", one of the men called out to us, and Rick gritted his teeth, attempting to assess our current situation, "We don't want no trouble! We're just lookin' for our friends. If something happened, tell us."

We all stayed silent, and I moved to Glenn's side, fumbling with my gun as I did so. Rick's wheels still turned, and sighing, he spoke.

"Your friends drew on us!", he called through the door.

"They alive?"

"No…", Rick answered, and my heart stopped for a second, waiting for the response from the men. These were the same men that raped me…beat me…almost killed me. God only knew how many there actually were, and what they were capable of as a large group, "Your friends drew on us! They gave us no choice! We've all lost people. We've all done things we wish we hadn't…It's like that, now. You know that…"

The men stayed silent, standing outside the door, and then one of them snapped, blowing the glass from the door above our heads. I screamed out, not even realizing it, and ducked, glass filling my hair and ears as I did so. Rick retaliated, standing to fire a few shots at them. His hand came back, waving us away.

"Get out of here!", he screamed, and Glenn grabbed my arm, dragging me along as he ran toward the bar. He dragged me down, causing me to slam to the ground face first.

"Shit…I'm sorry. Get up!", Glenn whispered urgently, still holding my arm as I scrambled to sit next to him. The gunfire continued. Hershel slid Glenn's shotgun across the ground, into thankful hands…and the gunfire slowed to a halt. We all stared, not trusting the sudden stroke of luck. The men began to talk, threatening in a way, and Rick took a deep breath, calling out to them.

"We all know that this is not gonna end well for any of us!"

A noise from the back of the bar perked both Glenn and I up, and Rick gave the okay for us to go. I shook my head violently, holding Glenn's thigh down as he thought it over. Finished thinking, he stood and drug me behind him.

"No! Glenn…We can't go out there…please PLEASE!", I begged. My hard nature was gone. Even Glenn seemed worried about it, as he turned and stared at me. His hand cupped my jaw, and his lips met my forehead.

"Everything's going to be fine. We get through this…and…and we can go home. Only a few minutes of running…and we're home.", Glenn whispered anxiously. He scanned my eyes, urging me to agree. I nodded quickly, gathering whatever was left of my courage.

He smiled a bit, and turned to the door to the storage room, pushing it open a hair to glance at the surroundings. The room was cold, and almost pitch black as we made our way down the creaking steps, and the even louder floor. The back door was being jiggled and beaten on, as the men attempted to ambush us from behind. Glenn stepped behind a column, his own nerves beating him a bit. With only a second of hesitation, he pulled out from around the column and shot at the door, blowing the glass from the window.

"GLENN! SHAN!", Rick screamed from the front room. Glenn grimaced, ejecting the shell from his shotgun with closed eyes.

"I'm alright! We're alright!"

"What now?", I whispered to Glenn, who seemed half terrified that he had just killed someone, and half terrified that he hadn't, as he approached the door. I followed, raising my gun…just in case. A presence perked my ears up, and I turned, my python shoving against Hershel's nose. He gave an annoyed sigh, brushing the gun away.

"Rick wants you to try for the car…", Hershel explained, glancing to us both.

"Try? Both of us?"

"You'll try, and you'll succeed. I'll cover you. It's the only plan we've got…", Hershel continued. He seemed sure of the plan, as Glenn turned back to the door and peeked through the blown glass. He opened the door, and stepped out, me in tow as he crept down the alley way. All was quiet, until a gunshot rang out, and Glenn hit the ground.

"GLENN!", I screamed, dropping to my knees. I scurried behind the dumpster, where he sat huddled in a corner, his gun clutched to his chest. He was alive. He was in one piece, but he was scared to death. I huffed, mustering up some courage, and peeked out. The attacker went down, screaming bloody murder, as Hershel's poorly aimed shot shattered his collarbone. I took a shaky breath, watching Rick approach, and then turned back to Glenn, "Glenn? Hey…C'mon. We gotta make it to the car."

"I can't move."

"Were you hit? Glenn! Were. You. Hit?", I asked, checking his legs over. He quickly shook his head, gulping.

"Are you hit?", I heard Rick whisper. I peeked out and shook my head as he approached, and squatted close to us. Glenn continued to shiver, staring straight ahead, "It's alright. The car's right there…We're almost home. You good?"

As if the word 'home' snapped him out of it. Glenn nodded, closing his eyes briefly, "I'm good."

"Alright. Let's go."

I nodded, and it was my turn to drag Glenn along. I pulled his arm to my side, and stood with Rick, following close behind. A bullet smashed into the side of the dumpster, close to Rick's head as we emerged.

"Shit! Get back…", Rick whispered loudly, pushing me back. As he scanned the area, I grabbed Glenn's hand. The trucks began to retreat, screaming about walkers, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief, watching over Rick's shoulder. Screams rang out, and Rick cringed, "Hershel! C'mon!"

"The gunfire must have attracted the walkers! They're all over the place."

"More of a reason for us to go. C'mon!", Rick called out, running across the street. I took a chance and followed close, as we closed in on the screaming.

"Rick! Do you really think this is a good idea?", I called, as we approached the culprit. A young man, unfamiliar to me, lay there. He had made a bad jump, and his calf was impaled by the top of an iron fence, "Rick…We don't have time for this…"

"He's just a kid…"

"I know. I know…but he can't run. We'll never make it out with him…", I explained. Hershel and Glenn approached, urging us to leave, as well.

"Rick. We have to go. I'm sorry son…"

"No no no no…Please don't leave me. Please!", the boy screamed out. I cringed, turning to him, and then back to Rick.

"He's not worth it. He's one of them! Rick! You realize he's one of them…", I pleaded with him.

"He's just a kid!", Rick repeated, looking back at the boy, "We can't just leave…"

"There's no way to get the leg off in once piece!", Hershel said over the boy's screaming. Rick pointed his gun, panicking.

"Shut up, or I will shoot you!"

"That may be the best answer.", Hershel admitted, letting out a tired sigh. He glanced to me, his eyes pleading for me to convince Rick.

"He's right, Rick. We have to go…Please. I mean, what are we going to do with him?", I asked, staring him directly in the eyes. My voice still held a hint of fear, shaking as I spoke.

"We can't…leave him…", Rick hissed.

"Well we can't stay long. Guys! Walkers…", Glenn called to us, aiming at them. He kept himself from shooting any of them, but his backing away was urgent. Rick stepped around behind the dumpster, as Glenn began shooting the Walkers down.

"We don't have time for this!", I screamed, and Rick agreed silently, running out of ammo. He shoved us out of the way, and grabbed the boy's leg, ripping it from the fence in one motion. I covered my mouth with my arm, closing my eyes tightly, "Oh my god…"

"C'mon!", Glenn screamed, grabbing my hand. We ran back to the car, and waited, as Hershel and Rick carried the boy. As if Daryl wouldn't be pissed enough…now there was a snake in the chicken coop.

Now…he had one of the men he so urged to kill, right under his fingertips.


	30. Chapter 30: Break

**A/N: So, I'm not totally pleased with this chapter, but I feel like it needed to be written. I've got lots planned for both characters, annnnnd I have some news to share in this A/N. If you've never read them...please read this one.**

**Be ready...all of you...to subscribe to a new story. I'll give you more information when it comes time, but I'm ending this, and starting a new story. The story will be a sequel, and will carry us through the winter, and through season three. There's a huge plot twist coming, which I'm torn between two scenarios that I'm not at liberty to share with you guys, yet, and here are some things to look forward to.**

**1) More Randall drama, obviously.**

**2) Shan stepping up.**

**3) A Character Death, A Character Separation, and A New Canon Character becoming main focus.**

**4) The End of Season 2/This Story and the Beginning of Season 2.5/The Sequel.**

**Anyway! R&R and I'll try to get you something written between Wednesday and Thursday (I have a PreCal final on Wednesday).**

* * *

Chapter 30: Break

"ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS KEEP AN EYE ON 'ER!", were the last words Daryl screamed, before his fist almost spoke sentences for him. Carol flinched, but stood her ground, staring as he mentally melted down. She had stood there for what seemed like forever, watching as he stoked his fire, ignoring her completely. He had barely noticed her, as she walked away from him, leaving him alone in the silent woods.

Daryl chewed at his lip, as the sun began to peek through the trees. He hadn't slept. He hadn't moved an inch from the seat he had taken, as he watched Carol walk away. He glanced up, staring at the yard, now absent of her figure, and sighed. Never in his life had he raised a hand to a woman. Never in his life had he threatened one, or even thought about it, really.

He had almost knocked her lights out. One second later, and his self-control would have failed. One second later, and Carol would have hated him for the rest of her life. He regretted it immediately. He had wanted to reach out, to touch her…to hold her…

He had wanted to say something, to prove that he wasn't his father. He wasn't that guy. She had just touched a part of his brain that he preferred left alone…

The soft growls and scuffling of Sophia's feet still haunted his mind as he closed his eyes. His fists came up, as a soft whimper left his lips, and smashed against his temples, leaving a ringing in his ears. He continued, the loud slapping noises reverberating through the trees; through the silence.

"No…no no no…", he whispered, sniffling a bit as his anger subsided. His cheeks were now red and wet, his eyes puffy, as he stared at the dirt, "No…"

He shook himself, picking up the pieces enough to stand. The sun was now high enough that Shane and TDog would be getting ready for a run. Of course, Daryl was meant to go with them. Of course he was. Stumbling against a tree, he slipped his feet into his boots and grabbed his crossbow. His clothes were filthy, and his hair still stuck to his forehead and neck from the high humidity as he began his sleepy stumble across the yard.

* * *

The drive back to the farm was awkward, to say the least. At some point in the trip, the kid had passed out, but not before he mentioned his name. I had every urge in my bones to give him a swift forearm to the throat…putting him out of his misery. He was one of them, kid or not. He looked to be my age, or perhaps a little younger, and he had muscles, like the rest. To me, that was enough to condemn him. That was enough to send terrible thoughts through my mind, but I would leave him to Daryl.

"What are we gonna do with him?", Glenn asked from the other side of "Randall". He seemed thoroughly concerned, and with good reason, "You don't really think that the rest of camp is going to be okay with a person…"

"I know.", Rick interrupted. He obviously didn't want to talk about the subject, as Randall's head rolled around on his shoulders, jerking forward and back with every bump.

We fell into silence, understanding that Rick had a plan, or at least was thinking one up as we bumped and creaked along the dirt road back to the farm. Our reception seemed warm, as Daryl and Shane made their way to the side of the Cherokee. Daryl's hands came to his hips, and Shane opened the driver's door for Rick. Daryl followed suit, wrenching my door open. He held his arm up above, like a bridge, and glared.

Rather than play into his anger, I stood from my seat, and threw my arms around his waist, my face burying into his chest, simply pleased with the familiarity. His hands made their way down to my elbows, where he gripped them, and pushed me away. His eyes trained on Randall, who sat in the center, blindfolded and hogtied.

"Who the hell's that?", Daryl asked, glaring from Randall to Rick.

"That's Randall.", Glenn spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. Daryl's glare shifted from Rick, who was now tending to a pretty beat up Lori, to Glenn.

"You guys are gone all night…and you bring back a pet? Yon't think we got enough mouths to feed?"

I raised my eyebrows at the question, and reached out to grip Daryl's elbow. All of us had been through a long night. There was no need for his attitude and irritation to start a fight, here. The arm was wrenched from my grip, as Daryl stalked away, murmuring and shaking his head at how much of a dumbass Rick was, and that we should have stayed gone.

Sighing, I threw my hands up, and followed him.

"Daryl! Wait…Where are you going?", I called out, as he passed our camp without a second glance. Our camp…

I stopped walking long enough to take in the new state of the camp Daryl and I once shared. The clothesline was gone, as was all of his clothing. The firepit was now considerably smaller, missing several rocks. Dishes and blankets were strewn about in front of my tent, which was half broken down from what seemed to be an angry fit. I sighed, and jogged to catch up to Daryl's pace again.

"Wait up, dammit!", I called out, as he stepped under his clothes line. The wire fell heavily in front of my face, showing off his impressive 'death' collection of rabbit and squirrel skin. The item that particularly caught my attention was his ear necklace, dangling directly in front of my nose. I gave an annoyed sigh, and brushed the line away, following him to his firepit,"What's all this?"

He didn't say a word. He had lifted a large stick, and was now prodding and poking at the embers below a new log, attempting, in the damp air, to start a new fire. I placed my hands on my hips, shifting from one foot to the other as I watched, attempting to sift through the moments we had had together. There was never a time that I had seen him this withdrawn…angry.

"Daryl?"

"Shoulda stayed gone…", he whispered. It was just an honest whisper, no malice, no anger. I could almost read a hint of pain in the way the words rolled off his tongue, "…Nothin' but torture…and pain…and death. Angel of Death."

"What?", I narrowed my eyes, hoping to everything that he wasn't throwing some sort of shot at me. Not now…

"I made myself appreciate the fact that…even though Merle was prolly dead, I found you. I found you against…all the odds in the world. You were safe. You looked like hell, but…after a few days, I realized you were fine.", he prodded at the fire, like a twelve year old, embarrassed of his thoughts, "But…things ain't like they were before…"

"But they can be…", I attempted to interrupt.

"No. No they can't. See…back then, it was easy. You were in one place. I was in one place. There was none of this shit…"

"This is about me going with Rick. I went…because honestly, I didn't want to deal with your feelings…or Carol's. I made a selfish decision to remove myself from all of it, and it almost got me killed. Glenn and Rick too. I was a burden, like I am to you, but I made it out. I'm back, and I'm ready to take on anything you can throw at me.", I explained, taking a deep breath afterward. His scoff made me cringe, as he stood up.

"Yeah? Well…I don't need no shoulder to cry on…", he snapped, pushing past me. He was walking toward the woods. Not this time, Dixon.

I ran up, my hand grabbing for his. He kept walking, as my anger took hold, just as much as his probably would, "Stop this! Enough with the pity party. You don't need a shoulder to cry on…Fine…but you need me. You need me more than I'll ever need you…You're just…too afraid to say so. What happened to Sophia was my fault. It was MY…FAULT! Is that what you want me to say? Is that what Carol wants to hear? I'll tell her to her face, if you want…Daryl STOP WALKING!"

My sudden teary scream stopped him in his tracks. He didn't turn, but I stopped crying, allowing one tear to fall from my chin as I watched his shoulders rise and fall. His fists were clenched, and for a second, I wondered if he would turn on me. I let my chest rise, rolling my shoulders back in stubbornness.

"Don't…do this.", I whispered, hoping to at least illicit a response from him. His motions didn't change, as he fought to suck in more air. As I stood and watched, I noticed his shoulders rising and falling a bit faster than before, as if he were struggling, "Maybe…Maybe my dad was right, ya know? With the way you are…and the way I am. We're like fire and gasoline…"

He scoffed. It wasn't much, but it was a tiny bit of acknowledgement to my words. So, I continued, shifting from one foot to the other.

"But…don't they kinda go together? They make the other stronger…or some poetic crap like that. Daryl, I don't know what to tell you, here. I'm so sorry. I'm going to regret leaving Sophia in those woods every day for the rest of my life. I promise you. Isn't that punishment enough, without losing you, for it? That kid…I wanted to leave him. I wanted to leave him back there, without hesitation."

Daryl turned, his fists unclenched as he watched my face with narrowed eyes, "I don't…blame you."

"He was bleeding to death…and…"

"For Sophia. Ya did what you had to…She's a kid – never listened anyways.", he whispered, crossing his arms. He brought his right hand up, chewing on the skin around his thumb. I gave a relieved sigh, and nodded.

We stood there for what seemed like forever, the awkward silence engulfing us both like the ocean, and just as I began to drown in it, Daryl shifted, uncrossing his arms. He turned, without a word, and stalked into the woods.

"Great…", I whispered. Another fan-fucking-tastic ending to a conversation with Daryl. Now, breaking the news about the Atlanta group would be even harder. Now, Randall was as good as dead.

* * *

Daryl turned, his body carrying him more than his mind, as he walked the familiar trail down to a sure fire hunting spot. He wasn't there to hunt squirrel, or to stalk a deer. He was there to be alone. He was there to be away…

His anger was out of control, and it was driving him mad. Sophia's voice, and laughter filled his mind with every step, as did her moans and growls. The two mingled in an ominous song, which almost drove him to frustrated tears.

He stopped walking, his hands coming up to his head, much like earlier in the morning. He began slapping and punching at his temples, doing everything he could imagine to push the thoughts and voices from his mind. They subsided slowly, as his face scraped against the bark of a tree. The scrape was raw, and burned as the sweat began to pool into it, but at the same time, the pain was enough to push the terrible thoughts aside.

He sighed, scraping his nails against the bark on either side of his face, as his hands gripped the tree for dear life. If there was a point to all this, he could use a sign. He could use any sort of moment…just long enough to tell him he was right. He was right, and this was where he needed to be. Every day, it seemed like a struggle. He protected these people with his life, and received nothing but grief and pain in return.

Then there was Shan. The one constant he had left, was fighting to get herself killed. She either had a death wish, or she wished one on Daryl. It seemed that she was drawn to danger, like a moth to a light. It wasn't always that way. She was quite careful, on the farm. She didn't like his motorcycle, and never road strange horses, for fear that she would be thrown. She never did anything adventurous. Maybe this was how the world made her. Maybe she needed this.

But dammit…

She would end up dead, and where would that leave him? If she was bitten…If she was shot, or worse…

The thoughts of how she had to have been living in Atlanta rose up in his mind, and the fury began to swirl again. Men had taken advantage of a girl who had never done anything daring in her life. They had changed his constant. They had turned her into a suicide machine. They had taken the innocence he loved so much, from her.

"GAH!", he screamed, ramming his knife into the tree. He hadn't even remembered pulling the knife from it's holster, but now that it was out, it was the weapon of his aggression, and the tree his victim. He sliced, stabbed, and rammed the knife into the tree over and over again, until his hands began to cramp, and his elbows ached at the motion. The knife never scared, or bent, but the tree was shredded. Honestly, one good kick would have taken it down. He stepped back, gasping for air as he checked out the work of his madness.

* * *

"We couldn't just leave him behind…", Rick explained to the entire group as I stepped through the front door of the house. They were positioned around the dinner table, and a few of them turned to glance, as I took my place in the farthest corner. I gave a small nod and smirk to Glenn, which was returned as the debate continued, "He would have bled out…If he lived that long…"

"What do we do with him?", Andrea asked. I could have answered that question quickly. Give me my gun, and five minutes alone, and send someone to come clean up the mess afterward. I knew that it wouldn't be that easy to take a life, but this wasn't just a life. This was the life of a boy…who was unfortunate enough to be caught up in the wrong crowd, with no law…

"I repaired his calf muscle as much as I can. He'll still have nerve damage…won't be on his feet for at least a week.", Hershel explained as he too entered the room. His hands were stained in blood, which also covered parts of his white tshirt. Rick noticed too, and nodded.

"When he is…we'll give him a canteen, take him out to the main road, and send him on his way."

I tensed at the plan. Rick wanted him alive? Rick wanted to let him go?

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?", Andrea asked. I rolled my eyes.

"I can't see the good in that, Rick. You know what…"

"I know…", Rick stopped me cold with his usual answer, glancing past me to the screen door. I followed his gaze, to see what had halted our conversation. Daryl entered slowly, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair parted neatly.

"So, we're just gonna let him go?", Shane interrupted, as I watched Daryl and Carol exchange a friendly hello. Smiling a bit, I reached out to touch his elbow, but received a flinch, as he shuffled to his own corner, and didn't bother to look at me. My eyes narrowed, and met the floor as the debate rang out around me, heating up.

I glanced to Carol, who seemed a bit lost in the conversation. She didn't bother to meet my eyes, either, as she sat curled against the fireplace. Her hands grasped both her shins, holding her thighs close to her body as she listened uncomfortably. My eyes then shifted to Daryl, who watched Rick like a hawk, almost in a protective way. The tension between Daryl and Carol was odd. Something had happened while I was gone, and that something shook me to my core. I knew Daryl felt responsible…but she had a look about her, when he was in the room. Maybe she felt a little too safe. Her eyes lifted from the floor, and met mine, their soft and gentle gaze turning to fire.

Did she really blame me? Even Daryl didn't blame me…and he knew me…

I sighed at the tension, tearing my eyes from her and slipped toward the door, carefully as the debate began to wrap up, and the group went their separate ways. As I exited, so did Daryl, almost running past me. I didn't bother to follow, assuming that whatever he was so worked up about was big enough to leave alone, for now. Instead, I would go put my camp back together.

It seemed like something small, but no one would miss me. The attention was on Randall, and for now, the accusing eyes were off of me. No one looked at me like a monster. No one saw me as the person who all but killed Sophia. Right now, I was just another body in camp, another mouth to feed. Honestly, it felt nice.

As I approached, I took in how damaged my tent was. Thankfully, it seemed as though Daryl had only knocked the poles from their slots, and my clothes and all my things were safely inside the door. I let a sigh of relief escape my lips as I bent, and began working on the mess.

I folded the damp clothes neatly, laying them in the collapsed corner of the tent, and spread the dirty blanket across the canvas. It was a mess, but it was my home, until Daryl calmed down. The tent began to shiver, and erected itself around me. I furrowed my brow and climbed from the door, wiping my ass as I did so. Glenn stood, his arms crossed and his hat removed. His face was solemn.

"Thanks for that…", I whispered, "You okay?"

"Actually, no. I'm nowhere near okay…What happened back there at the bar…"

I shook my head quickly, pulling the rain cover over the top of my tent to avoid the subject, "We got out. That's all that mattered. I didn't come out here for a lecture."

"No no no…Not a lecture. I froze back there, Shan. You could have been killed…"

"Rick was there.", I said in an attempt at comfort.

"And what if it had just been the two of us? What then?"

"Then…I'm there on my own account. I'm not someone's responsibility…and you need to realize…Rick too…that not everyone is yours to save. Sometimes, you're allowed to need saving…", I said in one breath, internally reminding myself to breathe more often. I gave him a small smile, as his spirits seemed to lift a bit.

"You read that in one of Dale's books? That's awful deep for a farmer's daughter…", he joked, laughing softly, "You need help around here?"

I returned the laugh and looked around camp. It really wasn't that bad, aside from needing a new clothes line. It was just missing a warm body.

"Nah. I'll be fine. Can you see if Hershel has any more wire? Daryl sort of…stole my clothes line.", I answered, wrinkling my nose a bit. Glenn smiled, and turned to leave.

"Or you could just move out that way…", he muttered, barely audible, as he took off in a speed walk across the yard.

* * *

With all the commotion and drama, Daryl had excused himself; disappearing to his tent for some much needed rest. However, the second his face touched the pillow, and his eyes closed, Sophia's face flashed into his vision. A shrill scream racked his entire body in a shiver, and his eyes shot open.

He groaned externally, flipping onto his back to stare at the ceiling. This wasn't happening again. He wasn't going to go through the bat shit crazy era, like he did after his mom died. He wasn't going to end up weak and sick, because he couldn't force the death from his brain long enough to close his eyes. The death…

It symbolized his failure in a nutshell. Groaning again, he slapped himself hard with both hands, the 'pop' bouncing off of the concrete around his tent like a drum.

"Fuckin' get over it…Some little brat. All she was…", he muttered to himself as his eyes began to flutter closed. As soon as the lids touched each other, they shot open, and he let out a whimper of frustration. This had to stop. There had to be a way to combat the helplessness. There had to be a way to rid this madness from his brain. He rolled onto his side, the stitches no longer tugging as he moved. They had begun to dry, and a few were even easy to pull out, like a splinter.

But it smarted…just enough…

He brought a hand down to his side, running it over the rough skin. The scab was still red and festered around the edges and the second his fingertips touched it he almost flinched away. Taking a deep breath, he began pressing his fingers deeper into the stitches, feeling a bit of blood pool up around them, as the visions faded, and his eyelids grew heavier, sleepier.

* * *

I crept around the edge of the homestead, rubbing my sleepy eyes roughly. From the tent, I could hear soft snores and groans, and I smiled. Daryl was resting. Rather than wake him, I grasped the zipper in between my fingers and very slowly moved it along its track. To my satisfaction, it moved silently, and didn't shake the canvas too much.

Daryl was way too light of a sleeper to attempt a sneak attack, but this was no attack. This was a truce. This was my way of giving up, raising the white flag, and doing whatever it took to stay close to him, because he was the Lori to my Rick. He was my everything, and I had put him through hell, by leaving. I kicked my boots off, and slowly crawled through the tiny opening in the door, zipping it quickly behind me, to ward off mosquitos.

His face was covered in sweat, from the sudden spike of temperature. It was unusual for the temps to reach the 80's this late in the fall, but today…it was a scorcher. I scanned the rest of his body, stopping immediately at a dark stain along the left side of his buttons. His hand lay there, and also seemed to be covered in…blood.

"Daryl?", I whispered. I knew better than to shake him from sleep. There was no telling what was running through his sleepy brain, and the last thing I wanted was a fear-induced reaction, "Daryl…"

He didn't move. I sighed, placing both my hands on his thighs and squeezed tightly. The action stirred him, both his fists clenching as he rose from his spot on the bed.

"Dare, it's me!", I yelled out, blocking my face with my forearms. He managed to control himself, his breathing heavy as he relaxed.

"Dammit…What the hell you want?"

"I wanted to come out here…I can't sleep alone…", I muttered, returning my hands to his thighs. It was my comfortable position. I lowered myself onto his ankles and relaxed, "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine."

I sat there, scanning his face, ignoring his declaration with my own stubbornness. He wouldn't go to Hershel for the newly opened wound. I doubted he would even let me see it, "What's goin' on with you?"

"I said I'm fine. Why don't you go back to Rick…sure he'd enjoy yer company right about now…", Daryl snapped. I raised my eyebrows. He was sleepy, and obviously very cranky as he nodded, "Yeah…I said it. Go tag along and get yerself killed, stickin' yer nose up his ass…"

"So that's what the problem is? You're jealous of RICK…of all people?"

"Far from it, kid…I'm just sick of bein' on the outside. I can't get the shit outa my head…and then…I can't get away from you!", his voice was pitiful, as if he was truly suffering from some sort of mental breakdown. I narrowed my eyes, and pushed back my anger to look deeper into the shots he was taking at me.

"I'm not leaving, Dare. Whatever it is that you can't get out of your head…I can help…"

"Nah…", he whispered, and I shook my head, interrupting him.

"I can…"

"YOU CAN'T!", he screamed, a bit of spit flying, as his puffy eyes softened, and he stared at the wall of the tent, "You can't."

"I should have been here…"

"Stop…", he whispered, closing his eyes.

"I should have been here. After Sophia walked out of that barn…I…I expected the worst on my end, but I didn't even think about you. Daryl…", I whispered. I was admitting this to him, almost as much as I was admitting it to myself, "I went with Rick to get away from you…from Carol. I should have been here. I should have…She had you to pick up her pieces and…and I wasn't here to do the same for you…"

His breathing slowed as he listened, his eyes still closed. I was still positioned against his ankles. So, there was no escape for him. There was no way for him to shut me out…

"I'm so…sorry. I'm here now. ", I knew how desperate my voice sounded, as I spouted something along the lines of teenage poetry, but it was true. I was ready for a beat down. I was ready for a mental…beat down.

"Can't get rid of you…", he whispered in a tired voice. The voice held amusement, as if he too were waving a white flag, too tired to carry on with the fight.

"Never could…", I whispered back, "You wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head, silent as he lay back down against the blankets and closed his eyes. Somehow, this seemed too easy. He was too easy to settle a score with, today, but I wouldn't complain. It was the calm before the storm, and I planned to sleep through it.

I climbed up to the edge of his pillow and lay my head against his shoulder, as he flinched awake with a groan. Something was giving him nightmares, pretty violent ones, at that.

"Shh…", I hissed to him. I ran my hand down his chest, and snaked it up under his shirt, running my fingernails along his scarred stomach. The harder I pressed, the more relaxed his muscles became, before he slowly slipped into a trembling sleep. I slowed my movements, and buried my face in his neck, finally able to rest.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	31. Statement for my readers

**Statement from the author:**

**I have had some concerns posted in reviews, PM, IM, Tumblr fan mail, etc. that this is becoming a Caryl story.**

**I want to address those fears with a semi brief warning about the beginning stages of the sequel.**

**First, I want to warn you that the Carol/Daryl relationship is very important in the coming days. That doesn't mean anything romantic; that doesn't mean you're necessarily going to appreciate its importance to the story, but I urge you not to dump me prematurely because of it.**

**Next, the end of this story is heartbreaking. I will lose readers and I am fully prepared for your hate mail. Don't worry. I'm not doing what you probably think. **

**Truth is, this story has been mapped in my head for months. For some of you, it will be intriguing and will introduce a separate story line that spices up the Woodbury plot a bit more. There will be a lot of flashbacks and memories as well as some sweetness.**

**for others, it will be the straw that broke the camels back, and I understand.**

**Nothing has changed in my mind. Just like reading a book, you have to read this as Shan's story, not as a Daryl Dixon fanfic. If you do that, you will appreciate it more.**

**1) No Caryl shipping here. She will be important, but relax...**

**2) Shan isn't stupid, nor is Daryl, but I feel it the inappropriate time to call her out. Her daughter died yesterday.**

**3) in the Walking Dead, no one is safe.**

**4) my twist will shock the hell out of you.**

**5) the new character is One that I love almost as much as Daryl. So keep a positive mind about them for me.**

**6) Too much angst? Its the Walking Dead.**

**A sleepy rant for all of you. I'm not usually one to waste a whole chapter for something like this, but I'm worried about you guys.**

**I appreciate the reviews, fan mail, hate mail because it shows me that you're reading and that my character is as beloved to you as she is to me. Don't stop reviewing. Don't stop voicing opinions. Keep reading.**

**My feelings are not hurt. I'm just worried about you. **

**Love and hugs to all of you,**

**AnnaBeth**


	32. Chapter 31: Tomorrow

**A/N: One of my favorite chapters, although I'm nervous as to how you guys will respond to it. I was pretty disheartened by the response to the last chapter. I felt like minds were very closed off, and it turned into a shipping war, over one paragraph.**

**So, please read this the way it is, and give honest reviews. Hopefully I still have all my readers.**

**R&R and much love. **

* * *

Chapter 31: Tomorrow

I stood, leaned against the barn door as the sun fell behind the tree line. The day seemed to drag by after I had awoken, and for the first time, left Daryl in bed alone. As I stared across the yard, my mind raced with ideas, and my finger tapped loosely against the grip of my gun, begging me to open the door and blow Randall's brains out.

He was injured. He was useless. Why we were keeping him as a pet; feeding him scraps – I didn't understand.

Wait.

We were keeping him as a pet…feeding him scraps. An evil smirk crept up from somewhere deep in my psyche. The karma he was experiencing made my day, and honestly, I felt like bathing in it.

I glanced to the side, where Andrea sat against the water pump, turning her gun over in her hands. She looked bored, and half of me wanted to dismiss her. Who's bright idea was it to send Andrea to babysit, anyway?

"I'm gonna go…see if he's awake for dinner…", I muttered. Her eyes lifted from the ground, scanning over my own with a shrug. I watched her for a second, making sure that the look she was giving me held no suspicion, and quickly opened the barn door, slipping inside.

As the door slammed loudly behind me, Randall stirred in the darkness, nervous groans leaving his gagged mouth. I felt around the wall, and finally reached a light switch.

"Shut up…", I said simply, and the movements stopped. I could still hear his breathing, terrified, like a cornered animal.

Good.

I flipped the switch, the overhead light coming on; illuminating Randall's filthy figure. He was still blindfolded, and his head darted about nervously, trying everything in his power to locate my footsteps. Smirking, I began walking heal to toe, silently across the loose gravel of the barn floor, until I was squatted directly in front of his face.

"So…", I whispered, causing him to jump out of his skin, a small shout of fear sounding off from behind the bandana, "Shut the hell up! Now…I'm going to remove the gag. You know better than to scream. Nobody here gives a fuck about you…and if you do…I'll blow your brains out…"

He nodded eagerly, and I grabbed the bandana, ripping it from between his teeth, also removing the blindfold. He gasped, staring up at me with wide eyes.

"I thought that was you…", he whispered, looking me over, "You look good! I-I mean…you know what I mean…"

"I'm not dead…"

"Right! I thought Gracey and them would have…B-but they didn't! And you're alive! That's really great…Real great…", he cheered on. His innocence was pathetic, and honestly made it hard to hate him quite as much as I did. I almost wanted to roll my eyes, and do the normal thing…let him go in the woods. He would be dead by morning, anyway.

I reminded myself quickly who he was, and where he was from – what his group was capable of. The sneer returned to my face, and I drew my gun.

"H-hey…What are you gonna do with that?"

"Shut up…", I interrupted him, pulling the hammer back. I waved the barrel in front of his face, watching his eyes follow it, like a cat following a laser, "Which one were you? Hmm?"

"I-I don't know what you mean…"

"Don't give me that shit…Which one?!", as my voice raised, I barely realized that my Python was smashing against his nose, until he whimpered.

"I don't know! I…Don't…don't know what you mean!"

"You knew the leader, right? Tall…dark hair…carried a big pistol, like this one? You ever come in that room?! Huh? Don't fuckin' act like you don't remember!", I screamed.

"YES! Yes…I knew Gracey! B-but I wasn't allowed in! I was just a…a guard outside! I shoot the lamebrains…I know what they did though. I know. I brought you food once or twice, but that's it! I swear!"

I narrowed my eyes, staring at his face as he winced, waiting for me to pull the trigger.

"You brought me food? You didn't even think to HELP ME?!", I screamed out again, renewing my anger.

"How could I?! You saw what he was like! He woulda killed me in a heartbeat."

"So to save your own ass…you just allowed them to rape me? To torture me?! THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A REASON TO HOLD ME!", I didn't even know the rage that was coming from me, anymore. It was a foreign emotion, but it felt good. It felt right, to let it go, "Where were you when I blew Gracey's head off? Running scared like a little pussy?"

Randall's heavy flinch left his body, and he straightened up with wide eyes, mouth just as wide, "Y-you did that? Ah, man…We came back and that place was fucked up. Dave packed up and we split! We didn't know what had happened…Man, I can't believe it was you…"

"Yeah…well believe it…", I whispered. I was finished with him. I was finished with the whole lot of them, and right now, he was the only one of them standing. I rose to my feet and raised my gun, directing it to his forehead.

"What's goin' on? Andrea came and got me and said she heard screamin'…", Rick spoke from the doorway. He halted his steps, and his words, staring ahead at me, "Shan?"

"Just turn around and walk away, Rick…", I called back to him as he crept across the gravel. His gun remained in its holster as he slowly reached my side, reaching out to me.

"Why don't you give me the gun…and we can talk about this.", he said softly, his hand coming to rest on my lower back. I sighed, frustrated at the way my hand began to shake, making it difficult to keep the gun aimed between Randall's eyes.

"There's nothing left to talk about. I…I can't move forward like this…knowing that you brought him here. YOU brought him here, and now you're just going to let him go? We should have left him. He's one of THEM!", I sobbed out, breaking under Rick's touch. He sighed, lowering his forehead to my shoulder, before nodding.

"I know he is. I made a call, and maybe…maybe it was the wrong one, but killing him? You don't want to do that. That's not you…", he reasoned, his free hand slowly snaking its way down my arm, toward the gun.

"You don't have a clue who I am! You've known me for weeks…WEEKS! You know OF what happened to me…"

"And we can get through that. I'm here…standing right beside you, and I know you're not a killer.", he whispered, putting pressure on the top of my hand. I scoffed, sniffling, and pressed the gun against Randall's head to steady my hand, as it fought to stay lifted against Rick's pressure.

"I killed them…their leader. He made all their decisions for them, just like you. I blew his brain all over the walls of that house, and ran for my life. I had to kill them…What the hell do you think they'll do if they find us? You think they'll throw a sleeping bag down…huddle around the fire…and sing songs with us? No…They'll kill you first, or tie you up so you can watch them rape Lori…Carol…maybe Andrea if she doesn't fight too much. They'll kill the men…the women who fight…"

Rick closed his eyes, sighing through his nose at the news. He didn't know how to handle the situation, and my clock was ticking. I pursed my lips, squeezing the trigger.

Click.

I scoffed softly, staring down at my gun as Rick let out a breath against my neck.

Click. Click. Click.

"NO! GOD DAMMIT WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS GUN?!", I screamed, throwing the heavy pistol. It slammed against the wall of the barn with a loud ring, and fell to the gravel, firing, "GAH!"

The long scream elicited a flinch from Randall, and he continued to stare at my feet, realizing that he had his one and only lucky break. Rick lowered his hands from his ears, and turned to stare at the bullet hole, inches from his ear. Sobs began to work their way up from my chest, as I heaved to catch my breath, and brought my boot forward, smashing into Randall's face. I kicked him to the ground, and continued; his gut, his neck, his arms. I didn't care. I wanted him dead.

"Shan!", Rick called out, his arms wrapping around my body. I wiggled free, throwing myself at Randall, but Rick grabbed my face, holding it in front of his definitely, "Look at me! You're okay…"

I shook my head in response, "No…"

"Yes. Yes you are. You're fine…Come here…", he whispered, bringing my head down to his chest. My hands came around, gripping the back of his shirt for dear life as I let go, sobbing loudly against he filthy fabric. I couldn't swear it, but I thought I felt Rick shiver against me, as his hand tangled in my hair, holding me even tighter. Suddenly, I wasn't in Hershel's smelly barn, sobbing my eyes out over a future rapist. I was back on MY farm, in the arms of my father, clinging for dear life to something I took for granted. I missed him; the smell of cheap cologne and cigar smoke. I missed the fresh cut grass that covered his jeans, and the calloused hands that ran down my arms when I was heart broken. I missed my dad, and Rick…Rick was the closest thing I had.

I didn't revel in it, though. I pulled my face away from his chest, looking up at his eyes as I continued sobbing.

"I'm sor-sorry…", I whispered, his teary eyes narrowing. As if he didn't care to understand, he pulled my face back down, kissing the top of my head.

"You're okay…"

* * *

Daryl stirred, slowly rubbing his eyes in the darkness. Shit. He had slept the entire day. Not like there was anything important to get to, but who was on watch?

"Shan…Wake up. We got watch…", he whispered, throwing an arm across the makeshift bed. His hand landed on the blankets, cold and damp from the fall air, "Shan?"

He sat up, looking around the small tent, as if she was hiding in a corner, or under a pillow. Realizing that she was obviously gone, he ruffled his hair, and began pulling his boots onto his feet. Hopefully, she was already out on watch. Hopefully, she wasn't out trying to get herself killed…

BANG!

Daryl's face shot toward the window of his tent, waiting for a second gunshot. Hearing nothing, he jumped up, and crawled from the tent as quickly as his legs and arms would carry him. That shot was close; on the farm. Was there a walker around? Had that kid gotten loose? Worse…Was his group here?

Grabbing his crossbow from the wall, he stumbled sleepily across the field, his heart racing in his ears. He internally begged whatever forces existed to keep Shan safe; and all the others. He had no idea where Shan was, and they weren't on the best of terms.

Plastering himself against the side of the smaller barn, he listened. His well-trained ears picked up every noise around him, from the leaves blowing in the wind; to the sobs he could hear ringing out from inside the rotting building. Reacting, he crept along the side, around to the front, where he unlatched the door carefully, and pushed it open.

"Shan?", he whispered from outside the doorway. Hearing nothing; not even sobs, he rushed in, crossbow drawn to his face, prepared for anything. Movement caused him to jump, his crossbow jutting forward, almost making contact with Rick's face, "Rick?"

Rick pulled away from Shan, his hands untangling from her hair. He wiped his own eyes, as she came into the light, doing the same. She looked to have been crying pretty hard, and didn't meet Daryl's eyes.

"What's all this?", Daryl asked quietly, his stance turning into something he never intended: defensive. His crossbow was lowered, but Rick adjusted himself accordingly, shoving Shan's gun into the back of his pants.

"Everything's fine…", he whispered, holding a hand out, palm facing Daryl, "Just…a lapse of judgment."

"Yeah? From which?", Daryl asked in a sassy voice. Rick narrowed his eyes in disbelief. The expression caused Daryl to shift to his other foot, chewing on his lip, "Plannin' yer next suicide mission, together?"

"Daryl…", Shan whispered, shaking her head to him.

"Nah. You wanna get yerself killed…feel free. Have a nice ride, but don't you…come back…alone…", he sneered toward Rick, causing Rick to step forward.

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe it is…", Daryl answered, his breathing shaking a bit at Rick's closeness.

"No one…is getting themselves killed. There was a lapse of judgment. Everything's fine."

"Then…what's all this?", Daryl asked again, glaring over Rick's shoulder to Shan. She glared just as hard, her arms crossed across her chest. Rick simply shook his head, placing both hands on his hips as he exited the barn, "So that's it, then? You wake up, don't say a word to me…just leave?"

* * *

"Yeah, Daryl…That's it. We had watch. You were sleeping well…", I mumbled, and he scoffed.

"I was sleepin' well. Right. So, you came to do watch on yer own? Why was Rick out here?"

"I'm not having this conversation again…", I whispered, my mind suddenly exhausted with Daryl. His voice was becoming a persistent nagging in my side, and I honestly couldn't pinpoint what his anger and jealousy was directed toward, "I'm goin' to sit on the tractor…get some fresh air…"

"What's goin' on, Shan? I hear everything from Rick…or from Glenn, when somethin's wrong with you, unless yer problem's with me. You run off to some bar to get a guy you don't even know…with Rick. You almost get yerself killed, and now? What the hell happened out here?"

I shook my head, staring at the ground, "I was on watch…and I thought about the fact that the men back there…they shot at us. I was gonna take care of him myself…"

"Bullshit…", he scoffed, glancing to Randall.

"It's the truth, Daryl!"

"Then why was RICK OUT HERE?", he half yelled, and I pursed my lips, staring at the wall above his head. I thought about running away, ignoring his envy. Maybe he would calm himself.

"Andrea called him out here. I was…talking to the kid. She heard me. That's it."

"Hmm…", he murmured, walking in a small circle.

"I need my father.", I whispered, and his eyes snapped back up to meet mine, "That's…what was going on here. Believe it or don't, I'm done fighting…"

Daryl stared ahead, his hands slowly coming to his hips in a sort of surrender as he chewed on his lip. I shook my head slowly, kicking a bit of gravel, and pushed past him.

"Where you goin'?", he asked, turning.

"Away. You wonder why everyone leaves…This is why. I'm not fucking Rick…", I sighed, and continued walking across the yard. I could feel him shifting behind me, trying to think of something to say. Instead, I reached up, tugging the chain from around my neck, and tossed it back toward him, "Tell Carol I'm sorry, will ya? She can have my pillow too…"

* * *

Daryl sighed at the shot Shan threw toward his relationship with Carol. Even if he admitted to himself that he had spent too much time with Carol, it still seemed a bit out of place, especially for her. Was she really doing this?

He gripped his hips tightly, pacing back and forth in the darkness as he watched her walk away. She really was. She showed no signs of turning back, of crawling back to him, like she always had. He had finally succeeded in pushing her away from him.

Internally kicking himself, he bent down, and picked the shiny silver necklace from the overgrown grass. As he held it up, his stomach dropped. Attached to the chain was a penny, and an amber-type crystal, that incased a tiny daisy.

"Dammit…", he whispered, balling the necklace up and shoving it in his pocket. He stood up straight, and started toward the main camp.

* * *

I stomped to my tent, doing everything I could not to cry anymore. I was fed up. I was done. Daryl pushed buttons. That was his thing, but at what point was enough, enough? At what point was it okay for me to give up on him?

I brought my hand up, brushing it across my bare collarbones, and sighed, my eyes closing tightly. I never made bold gestures like that. Who knew if he would even retrieve the necklace? Who knew if I would ever see it again? It was all I had left of him; of our old life.

I was far from sleepy, and not foolish enough to go out in the woods alone, for a swim. So, I did what I could. I sat down on my log, in the blackness, and stared into the blackness of the absent fire, letting the cold sink into my bones.

Rick would probably push me away.

Daryl was gone.

Randall had to die.

* * *

"Where's yer dad?", Daryl asked Carl, who sat quietly next to the Grimes' fire. Carl simply pointed, not meeting Daryl's eyes, "Thanks, little man."

Daryl ruffled his hair a bit, and stepped up to the door of Rick's large tent. He thought about entering, but found that after the things he had said, it would seem a bit vulgar.

"Rick…", he whispered, hoping that the canvas that separated them would be thin enough for Rick to make out his voice. The sound of Rick shuffling to put his boots on was a relief, and Daryl stepped back from the door, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey…", Rick whispered, ducking out of the tent to stand face to face. Daryl could tell by the look on his face that he was still a bit defensive, and weary of Daryl's attitude. His stance made Daryl want to turn and run. Forget why he even came out here.

"I…um…", Daryl started, his eyes falling to the dirt as he thought up the words of his uncharacteristic apology. He saw Rick's hands rise to his hips as he waited, staring down on him like a father. He smirked internally, and raised his head, "I wanted to apologize for um…what I…You know…for what I said back there."

Rick stared at him, scanning between his eyes for a few seconds, and then nodded. He shifted on his feet, and kept nodding, before he took a deep breath, "I know how it had to look…Trust me on that. Even in…all this, you're still human. You still have human emotions. Some, I'm not sure you know what to do with. I'm not sure you know why you do the things you do, but I can stand here…and I can tell you face to face…I would NEVER hurt her."

Daryl's eyes narrowed, and he too shifted. His stance was slightly defensive as he heard Rick out, "So…all that in the barn?"

"I don't figure she's going to tell you, now. She was going to kill the kid…"

"She told me.", Daryl answered. Rick nodded, and continued.

"Did she tell you he's from Atlanta?", Daryl's heart stopped, as he stared ahead into Rick's eyes. Even he didn't understand the venom that was suddenly flowing through his veins, or the regret flowing through his mind. Had he listened for five seconds, he would have known her motives. He would have known the story, but he hadn't wanted to know the story. He had wanted her to be bad…to be the one, in their relationship, who fucked up; Someone he could hate for the rest of his short life. Instead, she was just like him.

"Hmm.", he murmured, his fists balled. Rick glanced down at his hands, and then back up to his eyes, reaching forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

"I know what you're feeling right now. I do. But Daryl…I have to ask you to stay away from the barn.", he whispered. His tone was still fatherly, but softened as he worked through Daryl's psyche, to something foreign; He cared.

"After all that I said…", Daryl started, and Rick nodded immediately, tightening his grip on Daryl's shoulder.

"Give her some space. She'll probably want to be alone…think about things. Maybe she'll come around, tomorrow.", Rick explained. He had more to say. Daryl could tell, but he was waiting for Daryl to look up at him. So, he obliged.

"I've never seen the look of fear in someone's eyes…like I did the day you were shot. She was there from the moment you didn't arrive on time, until the moment you got up from that bed…and went out to hunt. That…is not something she's going to throw away over an argument.", Rick explained, his eyes asking for Daryl to agree with him.

"She ain't never walked away like that…", Daryl whispered.

"Everyone has a breaking point. It doesn't mean they've changed their mind…and look at me.", Rick ordered, his eyes serious as he stared into Daryl's, "I would never…EVER…put you in the situation that I'm in. Never. That's one thought that can leave your mind, on pure trust. I've been there. I'm still there. I wouldn't do that to someone I care about, and I wouldn't put HER in that situation. I know what she means to you…to me. I'll fight for her. I'll die for her…just like you, but…I'm not Shane."

Daryl watched Rick's eyes for a few seconds, taking in the mutual apology. He felt even worse, now. Now that Rick had cleared the air, Daryl wanted to run back to Shan. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, give her her necklace back, have one of those movie moments, and just…be okay. That wouldn't happen, because Rick was right. She needed space to come back. She needed the night.

"Thanks, man.", Daryl whispered.

"I'm here if you need anything. You're family…"

Daryl nodded roughly, pressing his lips together, and turned around. As he walked across the yard, he passed his old camp, where he noticed Shan. She seemed exhausted, and honestly…the scene looked inviting. He could build her a fire, warm her up, give her his jacket…all that. But she would probably push him away, at this point. Like their time in the 'real' world, their relationship was broken. Glued back together so many times that the pieces didn't even fit, anymore. It was a constant struggle, keeping together, and on the same page, but it was a struggle that was exciting to him. Maybe that was the problem. He enjoyed the power he seemed to have over her. He enjoyed pushing and pushing, only to be able to pull her back by an invisible rope, when he was ready for her.

This time, the rope had snapped.

It was a completely new scenario, and one that he had no idea what to do with. After staring for a few seconds, he continued on to his camp. Tomorrow, he would try to make things right. Tomorrow, he would change…


	33. Chapter 32: Just Bent

**A/N: Another one of my favorite chapters. I don't want too much Carol hate, but I have to make her realistic. Keep the nasty comments to a minimum, because I'm not a Carol hater. I'm not shipping her with Daryl...and that's what you should be absolutely thankful for.**

**This one has a happier ending, here. I'm super excited for you guys to read this...a little light hearted love before things start to go downhill for everyone. **

**R&R and much love to everyone!**

* * *

Chapter 32: Just Bent

I set up, my head touching the canvas of my tent. The roof was damp. I could feel the condensation drip down the part of my hair, and I smirked at the tiny sensation. What had awoken me?

The culprit continued, roaring up to the house, headlights blazing through the trees as the CRV rolled to a stop. I glanced through the door of my tent, watching Rick and Shane as they dragged Randall from the hatch back, and across the yard. I knew it. Rick didn't have the nerve to leave him. He didn't have the nerve to do what needed to be done, and now…Now he was right in our back yard again.

"Dammit, Rick…", I whispered into the darkness. It had been a week since the incident in the barn. I was still alone, avoiding Daryl as much as possible. It was just as hard as killing him, when he reached a hand out to touch me, or opened his mouth at dinner to speak; and I blew him off. I kept walking, head down, or picked at my food; sparking up conversation with Lori or Glenn. Glenn pulled away from me, as well. He didn't agree with the way I was 'treating' Daryl. He didn't agree with me pulling away, but he didn't understand. For it to be the apocalypse, his relationship seemed pretty perfect, to me.

As Rick and Shane parted ways, I noticed how exhausted Rick looked. He ran a hand down his face, and sighed, both hands resting on his hips. His eyes then trained on my tent, staring hard at my figure, as his legs carried him forward, stalking heavily across the yard. I took it as a sign that he wanted to talk, and pulled my boots onto my feet, before crawling out of my tent. The air was frigid, and tried to bite my arms through the thin hoodie that covered them.

"I need you to hear me out on somethin'…", Rick said immediately his hand coming forward to rest on my shoulder. His hands were covered in blood, which transferred to my skin, and his face was busted up something awful. I leaned my face down to his hand, and sighed.

"You brought him back…", I whispered, causing him to drop his hand, and shift. His hands came to rest on his belt, in a classic police stance. I too changed my stance to look up at him, "What happened?"

"Shane happened…He tried to…", he sighed, closing his eyes. I knew what Shane had 'tried' to do. It was written all over Rick's face, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"Why bring him back, though?"

"Shane? Or the kid?", Rick asked for clarification.

"Both…", I admitted, and I bit my lip. I slowly reached down to my wrist, untying the bandana. I whipped it out, unfolding it, and began wiping some of the still dripping blood from his cheek. Whatever Shane had hit him with; it had done its job.

"I honestly don't know. The kid helped get Shane out…I can't give up on him, you know? I don't want to give up…", he whispered as I pressed the bandana harder against the cut along his eyebrow.

"I understand…", I whispered simply, "He's family. His head is off…but he's part of what's left of your family…"

He simply sighed, looking out over the yard as I dabbed at more of the blood. It continued to pour, but seemed to be at least slowing up enough not to drip down onto his already ruined clothing. My thumb brushed over his bottom lip, wiping away a bit of blood from yet another cut. He sucked the lip into his mouth, closing his eyes, and gave a small smile.

"Thanks…", he whispered, grabbing my wrist. I narrowed my eyes a bit. He was exhausted, and something else was wrong, besides the obvious, "Do you think…I can lead these people?"

"Of course…you know that…", I spoke softly, twisting my wrist to grasp his hand. He nodded, a small and exhausted smile covering his busted lips. He reached a hand out to grip my shoulder, and sniffled, "What?"

"Have you even thought about it?"

"Rick…", I whispered, sighing.

"I think it's been long enough.", he demanded. His fatherly tone was back, and he lowered his head to change his demeanor, and look at my eyes, which were now curtained by my hair. He pulled the hair to the side, and pursed his lips, "He's done his part. He has watch later tonight…"

I shook my head, and Rick returned the gesture, glancing above my head, rather than roll his eyes. He dropped the hair, kissing my forehead, and turned.

"Just think about it…", he called back, leaving me confused. He had gone from injured, to in a hurry to get away from me, as if someone was watching. I turned, my eyes scanning over Daryl's camp in the distance. There he sat, like every night this week, watching me from afar. Only this time, it was early morning. Did he ever sleep? The glare sent chills down my spine, and I tore my eyes away from him, back to Rick, who hadn't gone far.

"What are we doing with Randall?", I called. He stopped cold, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm gonna think about it tonight…", he said definitely, before walking away. The tone of voice told all. Without any debate, Randall would be executed.

* * *

Tomorrow, things will be better.

Tomorrow, things will change.

Tomorrow never came. Daryl tried, every day, to bring himself close to Shan. If he could get close to her, he could tell her he was sorry. He could let her know that he was an asshole, and that she could come back out to camp, if she wanted.

However, the closest he ever came to talking to her was in passing, between the dinner area and her camp. In that time, she busied herself, hurried off, or just pretended he didn't exist. As Daryl sat there, his fire blazing in the freezing cold darkness, he mulled over the situation. Maybe it was over.

Maybe she would be like everyone else in his life. Maybe she would disappear, blend into the group, and he'd be on his own. Maybe it was better if he packed up and moved on. He kicked a bit of dirt, and grumbled to himself. He sounded like a lovesick little girl.

He lifted his head, his eyes looking over the fire toward her camp. He had watched her in her day to day, moving around like he didn't exist, fighting with Glenn, bonding with Rick…he had watched her. She seemed lost, and cold. So many nights he had watched her struggle to build a fire, to stay warm, and kicked his own ass, because he couldn't drag himself away from camp to go help her, to talk to her.

There he was again: Rick. The way he looked at her, talked to her sparked jealousy in Daryl's chest. Rick was there for her, in a way that Daryl wasn't. Every now and then they would reach out. They would touch each other's faces, hands, shoulders…and Daryl's stomach would twist a bit more. Father or not, Rick was being the man she needed…while Daryl kept his distance, and gave her nothing.

As Rick walked away, Shan turned to him. He wanted to call her over, with his eyes. He wanted to give her a look that would tell her he needed her. He needed to touch her, to hear her voice, honestly? To love her…

She retreated into her tent, grabbed a blanket, and took her usual seat on her log. Daryl sighed, biting his lip, as Rick made his way across to him.

"We need to talk…", Rick called, and Daryl rolled his eyes, prodding at his fire with a stick.

"All you ever seem to do is talk…What the hell happened to you?"

"It's not important. We didn't leave the kid.", Rick admitted and Daryl's eyes narrowed.

"You wha'?"

"Some…things happened. Shane was caged up. The kid helped us out. By the time we were a safe distance from the herd…we were too close to the farm to let him go. So, he's in the barn.", Rick explained. His hands fell to his hips, his signature defensive stance, and Daryl straightened up, his eyes narrowed.

"You couldn't just kill 'im?"

"I wanted to give it the night…maybe…maybe let you watch over him…", Daryl's eyes glanced between Rick's as he finished the hint, and then fell to the ground as Rick continued, "No one knows I told you. No one knows he's back, yet…"

"What bout Shan?", Daryl asked, slowly looking up to Rick's face.

"I'm working on that…", Rick answered, nodding like a father, "You go on out there. I need to go check on Lori…make sure Shane's holed up for the rest of the night. You good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm straight…"

Rick nodded, and suddenly all of Daryl's anger and frustration rested in his arms. He stood from his perch, ready for a long morning of watching over someone as good as dead. Although, who said anything about watching?

* * *

I sat by the fire as the sun slowly began to rise through the trees. Rick's timetable was off by a few hours, and he would be exhausted, by the time he took care of everything, and got some rest. I kicked a log over, watching as the sparks erupted from around it. I was warm, but I was tired of being alone. What time Rick wasn't out this way, I was miserable. I needed someone to talk to, to joke with. I needed human contact of any form, because since Atlanta…I had come to love it.

I glanced up at the sun, and then turned to Daryl's camp. He was no longer perched on his log. In fact, his fire was out, and his jacket was gone from the wall. My head shot to the barn, remembering that Rick said he had watch. No. I would not go out there and bathe in the awkwardness that was bound to come from being in the same room with Randall.

Sighing, I stood, and dropped the blanket by my tent. I was tired of being alone.

* * *

"Let's have a little chat…", Daryl sneered, ripping the mask from Randall's face. Immediately, Randall scuffled backward, his eyes huge at the look on Daryl's face, "I just wanna talk…"

"Wh-where's that cop?", Randall asked, and Daryl flung a first forward, smashing against his jaw.

"I ask the questions! You answer…", Daryl screamed, before pacing, "Do you know who I am?"

"N-no. I've never seen you in my life."

"Dixon! Do you know anyone named Dixon?!", Daryl drew himself close to Randall's face, and Randall's breathing grew ragged as he shrugged.

"I…I guess so. I mean…this guy Dixon used to come over, ya know? He bought drugs from my uncle…b-but I ain't never seen him before…", Randall explained, spitting a bit of blood. His eyes honed in at the sudden realization, and Daryl scooted away from him, allowing him to speak, "Daryl Dixon? Like…Gracey's Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah…", Daryl sneered, flinging another heavy punch into Randall's face, and another…and another, "What kind of operation was he runnin' in Atlanta?"

"What?"

"ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!", Daryl screamed, his face red, "He have many girls?"

"N-not that I know of…I wasn't there long!"

"Bullshit!", Daryl screamed, throwing a kick to his stomach, "How many girls?!"

"O-only one! He only kept…one at a time! It wasn't that kind of group, man…They had others…but…but they were wives and kids…", Randall struggled out, clutching his stomach in his hands, "That's all I know! Gracey was the leader of the whole thing…He said women were a right or whatever. Kinda ironic that one killed him…"

Randall's laugh sent chills down Daryl's spine, and memories of Shan's story almost brought a smirk to his own face. She had killed the most evil man he had ever known…with almost dumb luck. As he stared Randall down, his blood began to boil again, and he brought a foot forward into his face.

* * *

I leaned up against the rotting wood of the barn, flinching at every angry sob that left Daryl's throat as he 'interrogated' Randall. He hadn't spoken for a few minutes, after Randall admitted to him that his group still ran an operation, despite the leader being dead. They still went out…and they still raped and killed. There were thirty of them, and the last thing we needed was for Randall to leave this farm.

I sighed, leaning my head back quick enough to bounce off of the wall, as Daryl seemed to tire. I could hear his breathing through the door, and his pacing grew slower, eventually guiding him across to the cracked door. He threw the door open, causing me to flinch, once again, but his footsteps halted a foot from me. He didn't say a word. I didn't say a word. We just sat in silence, until his tired body slid down the wall beside me, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"Rick said…I should come to watch with you…", I whispered, pulling my hair behind my ear.

"I just had a little chat with him's all. He's still breathin'."

"You think I care?", I asked.

"You heard all that, then?"

"You knew Gracey…", I whispered, glancing to my right at him. He nodded.

"I ain't gotta lie. Gettin' mixed up with Merle's bunch is easy…til you get to know 'em. 'fore we moved out of the city, I helped Merle with his 'business'.", he explained. I had never heard of his life, before the farm, except that I wasn't supposed to ask. So, I stayed still and quiet, listening, "Gracey was this…this big time boss man in Atlanta. He owned whores…and ran a few drug rings. He was basically the mafia; Merle's boss. I didn't know much of 'im, but we owed him a lot of money…D'you tell him my name or anything?"

I thought back to my time with Gracey, and lowered my eyes to the dirt, nodding.

"I trusted them. I told them I was looking for you."

"I'm sorry…", he whispered. I narrowed my eyes, and shot my eyes toward him, "All that in Atlanta…my fault…"

"What?! Are you serious, right now? I mentioned your name…and so what? You're guilty by association?", I snapped, my hands flailing in front of my face, "It's not like…you could have done anything."

"You think they would have kept you like that if they hadn't known me?"

"Yeah. I do. I'm going to keep thinking it, because you're not taking the blame for this one…", I reasoned, my head coming back to meet the splintery wood. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, "I missed you…"

The change of subject elicited a scoff from Daryl, and his hand came down to rest on my inner thigh. The position was comfortable, and instantly, I took a deep breath, and allowed myself to relax.

"You too…"

We sat there, the sun warming the sand around us, and silently re-connected. It was a much needed physical moment, and with one touch of the hand, the anger and frustration from the week melted from my shoulders.

"Can I say I'm sorry?", he asked, his thumb rubbing a small area of my thigh as he gripped it.

"You can…", I whispered in return, a small smile playing at my lips.

"Well, I'm sorry. There. I said it."

"Not nearly as hard as you thought, was it?", I teased, giggling a bit. He shook his head, a small snigger leaving his nose.

"Rick…I'm glad you have him…"

"Dare…", I whispered in protest, but he shook his head.

"No. I get it…", he said definitely, "I just get it…Don't wanna fight about it."

I bit my lip and nodded, glancing down at his hands. Both hands were covered in blood. I couldn't tell what blood was his, and what blood was Randall's, but either way, he needed attention.

"We should get up to the house…", I whispered, pointing to his hands. He pulled the left one up, flexing it into a fist. He didn't protest, bringing the opposite hand to rest on my cheek. A soft kiss to the tip of my nose followed, before he stood and offered a bloody hand to me.

* * *

"Our boy's got a gang of thirty men. They got heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here…our boys are dead…our women'll wish they were…", Daryl explained to the group, primarily to Rick. Rick nodded, swallowing hard as Carol spoke up.

"What'd you do?", she asked, staring at his bloody knuckles.

"We had a little chat…", Daryl murmured, pushing past her. He was honestly tired of her always being there. He was tired of her mothering him, like he couldn't take care of himself. It was a comfort he didn't want to allow himself, and now…he couldn't.

Shan passed, her hand running down his back as she passed Glenn, and placed a small kiss to his cheek. Daryl couldn't help but give a small smile, glancing to Carol. She didn't seem impressed, which didn't surprise Daryl a bit. If he told the truth to anyone else in the group, Carol half wanted him to separate…to take care of himself…to leave Shan to her own devices. After all, 'she has Rick'.

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes to Carol, and watched Shan enter the house for medical supplies. Rick began explaining that Randall was dangerous, and that he would be executed. Daryl sighed, shifting his weight as his sleepy body begged him to sit down, or rather, to lie down.

Rick stormed off, not giving the group a chance to say a word, and all eyes fell on Daryl. He didn't lift his head, only scooted to the perimeter of the group, and eventually took off across the field. Shan would find him, but he refused to lead this group…

* * *

"Shan?", I heard from the side, as I read the back of the alcohol bottle in my hand. Hershel had gladly given supplies for Daryl, although he didn't quite agree with the reasoning for his injuries. I was anxious to get back to him, if nothing else, to be close enough to touch. I glanced up, and sighed at the sight of Carol, "Can I talk to you?"

"Not now, Carol…", I muttered.

"I wanted to tell you that I don't blame you! I don't…I just…Don't let Daryl pull away from us. Please?"

"From us? You mean from you, right? Daryl needs you…but I'm not making him do anything. You want him, come get him.", I half snapped. I didn't want to be rude to Carol, but I didn't exactly have time for pity.

"I just figured with you and Rick…He could come back to us. He's earned his place…", she started, but my glare stopped her. I calmed myself, before I squeezed the alcohol bottle too tightly, and stomped away from her. She had a lot of nerve. She had a whole lot of nerve…

As I reached camp, Daryl changed his gaze to look at me. His eyes were alight, staring at the supplies in my hands. The look was that of pure relief, and I let out the annoyed breath I was holding in, melting into a smile.

"What's wrong?", he asked, taking the supplies from me. I took a seat on the large log and shook my head, "Carol, right? You just gotta shake her off…She's on this hate train…"

"Hate train? For me? What the hell did I do, now?"

"She just…nothin'. I'm gonna talk to her…set 'er straight. How bout you play doctor?", he changed the subject. The look on his face, the way his eyebrows raised and his tongue came to rest over his bottom teeth as he smiled; how could I say no. He was being himself, finally. He was joking. He was smiling.

"Alright Mr. Dixon…", I said officially, sticking my nose in the air. I opened the bottle of alcohol, and pulled a bit of gauze from the pile that Hershel had given me, "This is going to burn…a lot. If I were you, I would find something to bite down on…"

"I'm goo- SON OF A BITCH!", he howled, the second the alcohol touched the open wounds. I hissed along with him, gritting my teeth, but kept cleaning up the blood. The wounds themselves were no longer bleeding, as I lay a piece of gauze over the entire area, and wrapped it in tape, "Wow, you're a good doctor…"

I smirked, and started in on the other hand, Daryl howling just as loud.

* * *

**Endnote: Like I said...good and lighthearted ending for you guys. I expect loads of reviews, and I'll try to get another chapter up after my exam on either Wednesday or Thursday. I'm in finals. So, I wanted to get you a chapter before things got crazy for me.**


	34. Chapter 33: Making Up and Making Plans

**A/N: So...I did it again. I facepalmed my way through another scene that you'll either love or you'll hate. If you hate it, that's cool. :)**

**Here's the plan for the end of the story. There is one more full length chapter, and an epilogue. After the full length chapter, and the epilogue, this story will come to a close. I will be starting a new story, called "Welcome To Woodbury". If the title changes, I'll let you know in either the next chapter A/N or the epilogue A/N.**

**The ending to this chapter my seem a bit abrupt, but we're at the point in the season where everything is extremely choppy. Some things are going to end in weird places, and I apologize.**

**Now, go do your job and R&R. Love you all *huge kisses***

* * *

Chapter 33: Making Up and Making Plans

I giggled, my hands tangling in Daryl's hair as his lips made their way down my bare chest, and across my stomach. He smirked up at me from under his dirty hair, and bit my lower stomach lightly, as he tugged at the button of my jeans. The cold air was no match for the body heat that filled the tent at that moment, my head spinning. I bit my lip, and wiggled upward, working my pants down my legs to shed them by the door of the tent.

His attack continued, kissing up each of my shins, up my thighs, biting and nipping as he reached the leg opening of my underwear. My body tensed, inhaling a sharp breath as his finger snuck under the elastic, pulling it to the side.

His smile, gentleness, and simply the way that he touched me, as if I would disappear from under his fingertips, calmed my nerves. I shivered against him, as his face disappeared, causing a small moan to leave my lips. It was permission. Permission to move on; to move me past the terrible memories; to remember the good memories he had made for me.

The overwhelm of my brain clenched my hands in his hair, and a soft growl sounded against my thigh, as his teeth clamped down on it, and I cried out. We were in the middle of nowhere. Only animals, and grass could hear, and the thought made me smile as Daryl's nose smashed against mine. He took my bottom lip between his teeth, and grabbed my right hand. Wrenching it from his grip, I scraped my fingernails down his chest, to the top of his pants. His hips jerked away from my fingers as they barely brushed the skin, and I giggled, flicking his belt loose with one hand; his button and zipper with the other. I pushed the jeans down from his ass, and let him take care of them from there, shoving my hand into the front of his boxers.

It was his turn to lose control, bringing his hand back up to my hair. He leaned on both elbows as I gripped him, and closed his eyes; his nose pressed against mine. I watched his face, enjoying the change of expression as my hand moved once; up and back down to his base. His breath hitched, his eyes closing tightly, and my stomach rolled. I was reminded of how beautiful he was during these moments, all his moves, his facial expressions, his roughness; all beautiful.

I moved my hand a bit faster, tightening my grip, and elicited a small whimper from his lips, his mouth hanging open. I smirked, leaning in to take his bottom lip between my teeth as he groaned, and his hips bucked against me. I pulled my hand away, tangling it in his hair, and he shoved his boxers down, crawling out of them.

"Such a tease…", he murmured against my lips, his tongue quickly finding mine in a mind numbing kiss. I closed my eyes, my stomach suddenly in knots. I fought it off as best I could, but it was still there, ever present in the midst of all the pleasure. As if noticing the tension that seemed to fill my entire body, his hand ran down my face, thumb running across my lip, "I got ya…"

I smiled softly, nodding. With a gentle kiss, he entered all at once, with a soft growl. His face disappeared as he sat still within me, kissing and biting at my neck. The sensations all together started a wave from my toes, which radiated up to my head, my entire body trembling along with his. It didn't hurt. I wasn't hurting. I wasn't being tortured, and the person above me…loved me. He loved me…

"I love you…", I whispered against his ear. Everything halted, his face pulled out of my neck, and he stared at me with wide eyes. They scanned over my own as he swallowed, sighed, and finally leaned in for a soft kiss. He didn't have to say it back. I didn't need to hear it. I just needed him, right there, right then. I bucked my hips, causing him to groan against my lips, and raise my leg to wrap around his waist tightly, as his hips slowly met my own in a careful thrust.

Every movement was careful, and sweet. Every kiss, and touch of his fingertips said the words that I knew Daryl would never slip from his lips. He wasn't rough, as his thrusts sped up, and his groans turned to whimpers against the soft skin of my shoulder. He wasn't animalistic, like he had been on the farm, many times over, taking me against the barn, a tree…the tractor. No. He was gentle, as if my body was suddenly made of glass. He was calculated, as if waiting for the perfect moment to make certain moves, concentrating on my reactions and movements. I cried out, his teeth clamped on my neck, his thrusts fast and unsteady. My body was rocked with waves of uncontrollable muscle spasms of my release; Daryl whimpering and growling into my ear.

His thrusts became more sporadic, and with a loud groan, his hands tangled in my hair, pulling it into a ball with his fist as he reached his release. The heat that filled me sharply contrasted the cold air around us, and I gasped, my hands slowly running the length of his back. He slowed to a stop, pulling his face away from my neck to stare down at me. His face held little expression, as it lowered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

"You too…"

* * *

Daryl fell into an uneasy sleep after their 'moment'. His head was spinning too much to rest, and his body wanted to jump around; do anything. He slept off and on for a couple of hours, before his body would no long lie in bed. Shan was wrapped around his chest, her hair covering her face, her breath hot on his neck. He tightened his own grip around her bare back, pulling her closer. Never, had he cared unconditionally for any human being. She was it. She was the end game for him, with Merle gone. He would die for her. He would do what he had to do to ensure her safety, and right now, she was safe here.

Smiling a bit, he brushed her hair from her face, leaning his lips down to kiss her temple and then started the lengthy process of untangling her from his body. He grabbed his pillow, slowly snaking from under her, and shoved the pillow under her face. He winced, carefully laying her hand on the blanket, and grabbed for his boxers.

Not a peep from her…

He tugged his boxers on, and turned back to her. The air around his mostly nude body was freezing, and the sweat that still covered him made it worse. Sighing, he grabbed the blanket, and covered her bare shoulders, tucking the blanket around her for security.

He unzipped the tent, stepping out in only his boxers, and looked around. The pasture was still just as empty as before, only now, it was quite a bit warmer out there. The afternoon sun had cleared the fog, and the farmhouse was visible in the distance. Daryl reached to the top of the wall, and grabbed a clean pair of jeans. They were just as ratty and torn as all his others, but at least they felt clean. He slipped them over his legs, reached in and grabbed his belt, and began cleaning the camp up. If he was going to go hunting, he was leaving Shan with something nice to wake up to; not dirty clothes and half charred animal skins laying all over the place.

He threw on a shirt, and began cleaning his crossbow, bolt-by-bolt, checking in on Shan from the window, every now and again. The way she was sleeping was both nerve wracking and peaceful; just another thing he didn't have to worry about, as long as he could see her chest rise and fall. Footsteps pulled him out of his trance, and he glanced back to see Dale approaching.

"Whole point of comin' out here was to get away from you people…", he snapped at Dale, turning his back to work on his crossbow. Dale didn't stop his stride, instead sparking up conversation as Daryl rolled his eyes.

"It's gonna take more than that…", Dale said in a friendly voice. He stood still, swinging a stick in his hand, as Daryl attempted to ignore him completely; to no avail.

"Carol send ya?"

"Carol's not the only one concerned about you and your new role in the group…You've changed for the better…", Dale admitted. Daryl glanced at him, before sighing.

"I don't need it…This group's broken. I'm better off fendin' for myself."

"That why you got that girl out here?", Dale asked, furrowing his eyebrows at the glare Daryl gave him. He straightened up, and continued, "You act like you don't care…"

"Yeah. It's 'cause I don't."

"So, live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?", Dale asked, glancing to the tent. Daryl narrowed his eyes, wishing the old man would keep his damn voice down…

"Nope."

"Then why not stand with me? Try to save the kid's life, if it really doesn't matter.", Dale continued.

"I didn't peg you for a desperate sumbitch…"

"Your opinion makes a difference.", Dale tried to finish, as Daryl picked up his crossbow. Maybe he could lure the old man away from camp, away from the tent. Maybe he could just get him to go away completely.

"Ain't nobody lookin' to me for nothin'."

"Carol is. Shan…Shan most definitely is. I am..Right now.", Dale pleaded. Daryl turned, rolling his eyes, "You obviously have Rick. He loves that girl of yours…"

"Rick just looks to Shane. Let 'im…"

"You cared about what happened to Sophia. You cared about what it meant to the group. Torturing people? That isn't you. You're a decent man…So is Rick. Shane? He's…He's different.", Dale continued to plead. Daryl glanced behind him to the tent as Shan rolled over, shaking the canvas as she moved. He sighed.

"Why? 'Cause he killed Otis?"

"She tell you that?", Dale asked, his eyes widened.

"Yeah…But Rick ain't stupid. He comes back…tells a story…shows up with a dead man's gun. It ain't that hard to figure out. If you didn't, it's 'cause you didn't wanna…Like I said…This group's broken.", Daryl snapped. He turned simply, and stalked away from camp. Hopefully Dale would have enough sense to not wake Shan. Hopefully, the old man would do like the rest of the group, and leave them the hell alone.

* * *

I awoke, not surprisingly, alone in the evening. My body was sore, my mind was pretty foggy, but I felt good. I felt like things were actually right, in the world…

"Shan…", I heard from outside the tent. I sighed at the sound of Rick's voice and sat up, quickly bringing the blanket up to cover my bare chest, "Can I talk to you? Out here?"

"Yeah…um…Just give me a second to get some clothes on."

"Take your time…", Rick whispered, as he took a seat on the base of the old wall. I stalled for a second, before throwing my tank top and hoodie on. My underwear were still adorning my body, and I quickly located my jeans. I placed them over my legs, and stood from the tent, to pull them up. As I buttoned them, Rick turned his head from me, clearing his throat.

"So, what's up?", I asked, attempting to straighten my tangled hair. Failing, I balled it up, and pulled it to rest on my shoulder.

"We're getting the group together, in a bit. We're gonna finish this Randall thing, once and for all.", he explained. He looked regretful. He looked weak. He looked exhausted. I stepped over to the wall, taking a seat beside him, and sighed, pulling my hair behind my ears.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Stay away…honestly. I need you to stay away. You've done enough. He's done enough to you. It'll only complicate things if you're present.", he grumbled, closing his eyes. He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and sighed. His eyes then trained on me; my face, and then my neck, where he almost winced. It went unspoken, but I knew. Daryl had made a mess of my body, even as gentle as he had tried to be.

"Are you going to kill him, Rick?", I asked softly, pulling my hood up to cover my hair and neck.

"Do you see any other choice, here? He's a threat. We can't keep him locked up, forever…"

"Then we kill him.", I whispered.

"I almost want you to disagree…to tell me I'm wrong. I just need someone to admit that I can't do this…"

I narrowed my eyes, staring at his face as he defeated himself before me. Rick was the strongest man I had ever met, but…it was his turn to be tired.

"Then, I'll get Daryl to do it.", I whispered, bringing a hand up to run through the side of his hair. It was a simple gesture of comfort, but he closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, and then shook his head.

"No. It has to be me. I've promised to lead these people…to keep them safe. I have to do it…"

I nodded, only in support of his words, and leaned my forehead against his temple, "Okay, then. I've got your back…Anything you need."

"Where's Daryl?", he asked, looking around camp. I simply shrugged, causing him to nod, "It's getting late. We need to decide this tonight…end this…tonight."

"I'll find him."

* * *

Daryl stalked back to his camp, carrying a mixture of rabbit and squirrel around his body. Dinner would be plentiful tonight, and with Hershel's chickens for the main group, he was feeding only two mouths. Slinging his crossbow onto his back, he climbed the final hill, coming face to face with Shan's crossed arms across her chest. The stance wasn't angry, or worried. It was simply Shan, waiting for him at the top of a hill. The simplicity of it soothed him.

"What's up?", he asked, leaning in to kiss her. The air around them still drew them together, and oddly enough, he didn't mind it. She kissed him back, pulling away with a smile.

"Rick wants everyone up at the house. Where you been?"

"Where you think I've been? Got some squirrel…", he murmured, pushing past her. He threw the squirrel onto the wall; touching it with the back of his hand to check it's temperature. The cold stone would act as a refrigerator, and would hopefully keep their dinner from spoiling, while he dealt with the daily drama, "Ready to go to court?"

"Rick…kinda doesn't want me around."

"Wha?", Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"He came out here. He told me things might be too…rough for me to be around. I think he's made up his mind to kill the kid."

"Alright. I'll go up there…you stay here and…", Daryl thought hard, glancing to his side, and smirked, "…clean my squirrel."

Shan's face spelled anxiety as she stared hard at the bloody rodents. She had never cleaned anything in her life, aside from scaling fish for her dad. Daryl knew it, but…she had to learn sometime. He smiled a bit wider, and removed his knife, handing it over.

"What do I do with them?"

"Skin 'em. Break off the feet and the head. Gut 'em. Lay what's left there on the wall.", he explained, raising his eyebrows. Like a determined child, she huffed, and nodded, "You got it covered?"

"I got it covered…", she answered with a nod. Daryl leaned forward, pecking her on the lips, and then turned to head to the house.

"I'll be back. Don't cut off yer hand."

* * *

The sun began to go down. I was out of squirrel to butcher, and honestly, I didn't mind that, except that I was bored. I was so bored that I would have paid for someone to chat with. I would have sold my soul for someone to just ask questions. I poked at my poor excuse for a fire, attempting to coax a blaze out of the tiny flame. It was freezing, and until the scream, I wondered if the night would swallow me up.

The first scream took me off guard, but didn't demand my presence. I stood, and stared across the pasture, attempting to see whom the scream had come from. It didn't sound like Daryl. It didn't sound like Rick. Sighing, I picked up Daryl's crossbow, and weighed it in my hands. Rick told me to stay put. So, I leaned the crossbow against the brick, and waited.

"HELP! OVER HERE! HELP!", Daryl's voice called from across the yard. Screw what Rick wanted. I yanked the crossbow up from its place against the wall and slung it onto my back, suddenly feeling naked without my gun. Rick had never given it back, after the incident in the barn. The crossbow would have to do.

"DARYL?!", I screamed, running toward the sound of his voice. He was no longer screaming, but the rest of the group was in chaos, gathering around something in the field. I stopped, mid run, and dropped the crossbow to the ground. I slipped my foot into the stabilizer, and pulled the string back, almost forced to lie down from the tension. Standing up straight, I loaded a bolt, and took off running again, "Daryl?!"

Reaching the group, I didn't immediately see Daryl, but the group looked down at something on the ground. My stomach plummeted into my feet, terror rinsing over me in the form of tears and soft sobs, as Carol grabbed for my arms. She attempted to hold me back, as if protecting me from something.

"Hold on, buddy…", Daryl whispered from somewhere. I gasped, shoving Carol away from me, and staggered forward to stand with Rick. That was when Dale came into view. His stomach was ripped open, and every vital organ was either ripped to shreds, or lying next to him on the ground. He was dying…turning. He was suffering in a way I could even imagine. Daryl stood to his feet, quickly wrapping an arm around me to pull me back.

"Oh my god…", I whispered, involuntarily peeking over the leather sleeve that covered part of my face as he drug me through the crowd, "How did this happen?"

"I don't know, but I need you to hang back. Give me that…", he whispered, a hand meeting my cheek, before pulling the bolt from its rest on the crossbow. He took the crossbow, placing the bolt in its position on the quiver, and then hung the crossbow on my shoulder. He then turned, re-entering the group, which was engulfed in sobs, and screams of mercy. I looked to Rick, my eyes tearing up as he made a heartbreaking decision. His body moved forward, raising his python to Dale's head. As his hand quivered, I watched his entire being fall apart before my eyes. He was no longer the leader. He was merely a man. He was a man…who felt responsible in that moment.

Daryl could feel it too. He glanced to Rick, before reaching a hand forward, softly taking the Python from Rick's hand. I reached out, all I could do in that moment, and took Rick's hand into my own. I didn't care how it looked. His larger hand gripped mine tightly, as he closed his eyes, allowing Daryl to step up.

"Sorry brother…", Daryl whispered, and a shot elicited a flinch out of both Rick and myself. The women erupted into sobs. The men began breaking up, walking away, all defeated. Daryl sighed, and stood from his place beside Dale. His eyes were teary, and his shoulders were low as he turned to Rick and I. Rick didn't speak. He only gave my hand a small squeeze, took his gun from Daryl, and turned. Patricia made her way out to the field, holding a blanket. I waited, face to face with Daryl, until she had covered Dale's body; preparing it for his morning burial. I had never known him, really. I only knew of the way he got under people's skin. I knew of the way he took up for me, when it came to Shane, the way he figured things out, the way he could have been a great friend. I had missed out, and now he was gone.

"Dare…", I whispered, calling Daryl's attention from Rick's fleeting figure, back to my eyes, "I'm so sorry you had to do that…"

"Better me than Rick. Just wish I had backed the old bastard up…just once.", he replied. His hand came up to my shoulder, turning me to walk back to camp. It was a fast paced walk, as if he couldn't wait to get away from the group, back to solitude, and privacy, "Didn't kill the kid."

I nodded, sniffling away the few tears that had built up around my eyes, "I figured as much. What happened with it?"

"Big debate. Rick's kid ran out there when Rick had the gun to the guy's forehead. He made a big scene…and Rick couldn't do it. Kid's in the barn. I think they're gonna let him go.", Daryl explained. I sighed, shaking my head a bit.

"So all this…and that's it? They're just throwing him out? What if he finds his men?"

"That's what Rick was sayin'. Dale wanted to keep him…make him some sort of pet. The rest of the group said it wasn't a good idea…and so…we were gonna kill 'im.", Daryl whispered in the dark. As we approached camp, he scoffed a bit at the sight of all the squirrel and my pitiful fire. He turned to me, taking the crossbow from my shoulder, "Don't worry. We're lettin' him go so far out…he won't never find nobody to hurt. I promise ya. Get him out and overwith…good riddance, right?"

"Right…", I agreed methodically.

"Wouldn't agree to it, if I thought he would hurt anyone…Poor bastard was right. I shoulda backed him up…", Daryl complained. The guilt that oozed from his words turned my face downward even more. Not only had we lost a member of our group, tonight, but the whole group had some part in the blame. Every single person would hold it on their shoulders, whether they wanted to or not. Me? I just felt as if I didn't know him well enough, despite what he had done for me.

Daryl…felt as if he betrayed Dale.

"There's no use thinking of what ifs. What if you could have come and saved me on the farm? What if I hadn't ventured into Atlanta alone? What if Rick had left Randall to die on that fence? What if…what if…what if. It does no good…", I frowned at my own words, and watched Daryl's face. I could tell that the words hurt, at first. He was forced to admit that he was helpless. Dale's death wasn't on his hands, just like my rape wasn't on his hands. For once in his life, no one was placing any blame, and he didn't know how to handle that.

He stalked over to the tent and then turned back to me, a thoughtful look on his face, "Senoia…is about five miles from here. Yer farm? On this side of Atlanta. We ain't gone far. I want you to promise me somethin'…"

I narrowed my eyes, but nodded for him to continue.

"If somethin' happens…for whatever reason…and you get lost, or we have to run…that's where you'll go. I've been meanin' to make plans since we got here. I ain't never trusted this place, and after what happened to the old man…who knows what's out there? I'm gonna go out tomorrow…scout the area…see if there are any stragglers and whatnot, but I need to know that if I come back, and yer not here, yer there."

I blinked, giving my brain a second for the instructions to soak in. The farm, my farm, was only a few miles from here? All this time…only a few miles.

"I'll be there…"

* * *

**Endnote: Also, since I have issues linking you all to the forum...if you have skype you can add me. I'm always online abdonovan502 or feel free to PM me here. I love hearing from new people...especially fellow fangirls/fans of my stories.**


	35. Chapter 34: A Storm On The Horizon

**A/N: First, I'll say that I'm so so so sorry it took so long to get this out. I'm still up in the air about how I want to end this thing, because I have two scenarios with a very similar outcome working in my brain. So, I'm giving you this first half, to satisfy you, until I can properly wrap you up.**

**I said that I would be finishing it with this chapter. I lied. It will be next chapter.**

**R&R because I worked really hard on this...and I really want to know what you think! *Kisses to all of you***

* * *

Chapter 34: A Storm On The Horizon

The night was cold, colder than any we had experienced thus far. Daryl and I seemed to cling to each other, desperate for warmth. His arms became blankets, his chest a heater, as his body shivered against mine in a restless sleep. At some point, we would all need somewhere warmer to sleep, whether it be the barn, or the vehicles.

We awoke around the same time, untangling from each other with sleepy 'hellos' and began our day. Dale's death weighed on Daryl's mind. I could feel it in the air around him as he dressed and tossed his jacket around his shoulders. He hadn't been able to make it to the old man, before the walker gutted him. That, to Daryl, was a failure.

"So, what's the plan?", I asked, pulling myself out of the tent, to dress along side him. He was quiet, for a moment, staring off across the yard. He then turned to me, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Figure the group has a plan for the old man's funeral. I guess we'll go up there and everything, then I think I'm gonna get some of the others…go out and check for walkers around the area."

I nodded as he spoke, although I wanted him close. After the night before, I wanted them all close, Daryl especially.

* * *

After I dressed, Daryl and I made our way across the large field, to meet with the rest of the group. Most of them were already gathering under the same tree we had buried Otis. As much as I hated Andrea, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Dale was like a father to her, and the thought of losing someone like that, in a world like this, sent chills down my spine. I glanced from her tearful face, to Rick, who stared straight ahead to the shallow, covered grave solemnly. I kept my eyes trained to him as he spoke for Dale; and his ways. He spoke of the way Dale got under people's skin, pissed them off, but loved with everything he had. His head was always filled with ways to make the apocalypse a little easier on the rest of us…and no one thought to return the favor.

My eyes began to water, before the tears began their trek down my face, to my dirty boots. Daryl stood not far from me, and stared. The stare was intense enough that I could feel it burning into the side of my face, and Rick's eyes scanned over him as he spoke the words.

"He knew things about us…saw people for who they really are…"

I turned; Daryl's stare hitting the ground as I shuffled toward him, and loosely wrapped my arms around his waist. Although we were standing amongst the group, his arm loosely wrapped around my back, and came to rest on my opposite thigh as we listened to the end of Rick's speech.

Wrapping things up, Rick sighed, looked to the ground momentarily, and then turned to stalk back to the house. I watched him, until he disappeared inside, and then I looked up to Daryl, "I don't need to ask you to be careful…but watch Shane. Alright?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at me, but nodded, placing a kiss to the top of my head. His arms unraveled from my body, and he too walked away from me. I was left alone…with Andrea. I glanced down at my feet, my conscience begging me to say something, while my rational brain begged me to just leave her alone. I was the last person she would want to talk to, and honestly…until Dale died, she was the last person I wanted anything to do with.

"Andrea…", I whispered out of nowhere. Her body tensed and she wiped her eyes, glancing over her shoulder to signal that she heard me, "Do you need anything?"

"I'll be fine.", she scoffed, turning to push past me. My hand rose, grabbing her forearm tightly, to keep her from just blowing me off.

"I know what he meant to you, Andrea. I may be a bitch to you…but I know what it's like to lose someone. Trust me. If you need to talk to anyone…"

"I'm going out with Shane and T-dog. I don't need a pity party. Do you need something?", She asked in a snotty tone. I simply sighed. There are some people in this world that are impossible to be nice to. Andrea…could be one of those people.

"Um…no. I was just worried. Pardon the misunderstanding…", I retorted, tossing my hands up in front of my face. I started past her, to find Rick.

"Thanks…", she called after, but I didn't turn. I entered the house, slamming the door behind me.

"Rick?", I called through the house.

"I'm in here…", an exhausted answer sounded. I stepped into the large dining room, where Rick sat, exhausted, at the table. His hand rested against the bridge of his nose, where he pinched the skin, and bit his lip. He was crying; I knew it, but he wouldn't let me see.

"Um…Daryl is goin' out with some of the others to look for stragglers. Is there…is there anything I can do around here?"

"Not really. Hershel mentioned movin' everyone inside…I want you to take one of the smaller rooms upstairs. I can't sleep with you so far away…not after last night…", he whispered. I raised my eyebrows, and glanced to the floor, before nodding, "We're doing it tonight."

"Doing what?"

"We're letting him go…", Rick whispered finally. We fell into silence, Rick staring out the window, while I stared at his face for the longest time.

* * *

Hours later, the small task group arrived back at the farm. Daryl jumped from the back of the truck, backhanding the tailgate as he jogged behind it. He had bad news. It was news that Rick wasn't going to want to hear, but it was news that just made the world more real. They had lived in denial for too long, thinking this place was safe; that they were free from reality.

There were walkers on site. They had taken care of ten or so, but who knew how many were out there, waiting for the right moment; the right noise.

"How'd things go?", Rick asked, as Daryl slowed to a walk. He shrugged his shoulders, but Rick didn't let up. He simply stared at the side of Daryl's face, until Daryl stopped walking.

"Found about a dozen walkers out past the perimeter. Took care of 'em, but there's probably more where that came from. Know what I mean?", Daryl asked, tightening his grip on his crossbow. Rick nodded slowly; placing both hands on his hips, and then looked around the yard.

"Well…We'll need some watchers, then. You and T-dog can pull double duty…watching the fences…"

"You really think that's enough? We need to get out of here…", Daryl whispered, attempting to keep his voice down as the rest of camp buzzed around them, "This place ain't safe no more…What if there are more? We can't sit here and just…wait for 'em."

Rick stared, narrowing his eyes at Daryl as if he had committed the highest sin against humanity. Leaving the farm was a risk; sure, but it was a risk that they would have to take, or they risked even more life and limb to stay. What was more pressing? How could they sleep, knowing that there were walkers at their back door?

"We're not going…", Rick whispered definitely, his teeth gritted, "Go get T-dog and find a place for watch…"

Daryl sighed, not agreeing with Rick, but understanding that, in reality, Rick had the final say.

"Where's Shan?"

"Gathering your camp. I gave her a room upstairs. You're welcome to it, during breaks…", Rick ordered, like a boss to an employee.

Daryl nodded, pressing his lips together, before bringing his crossbow from his shoulder to go after T-dog, "Just watch out for her…"

* * *

I threw a backpack around my shoulders, tightening the straps as I lifted a box of our things from the makeshift camp. These tents had become our homes over the past few weeks, and leaving them seemed out of place, and weird. However, I couldn't lie to myself. A warm bed, inside a heated home sounded great, after the cold we experienced the night before. Any change was nice, at this point, and hopefully Daryl would be able to sleep some.

I carried the box across the expansive field, with some effort, watching the people buzz around camp. The women packed up their things, while the men began watch, or began construction around the property, getting things ready for the brutal winter we were sure to have.

I sighed, and carefully walked up the steps, entering the house. The box in my hand was quickly whisked away, taking me off guard for a second. However, the smiling face in front of me set my mind at ease: Glenn.

"Thanks…", I whispered, following him up the stairs, "Which one is mine?"

"This one here. You're lucky. They have you easiest access to the bathroom…", Glenn answered, opening the door to my room for me. He pushed it open with his shoulder, and dropped the box beside the bed, once inside. The room was pretty big. There was a bunk bed, and a small sofa, along with a television and other amenities that were useless, during these times. I smirked, but then narrowed my eyes in confusion.

"Is there a reason they gave Daryl and I a big room like this? I mean…at least three people could sleep in here, if not more."

"Yeah. Hershel offered it up, because of Lori being pregnant. He doesn't like the idea of me and Maggie in the same room…go figure, but doesn't want Lori climbing, or sleeping on the couch. So…the room went to you.", Glenn answered with a shrug. I dropped my backpack to the ground with a thud, and sighed.

"And where are you sleeping?"

"Down stairs, in the chair.", he scoffed, shrugging.

"Nah. You can sleep up here. Daryl won't be in most nights. There ain't no need in all this space going to waste. Go get your stuff…", I said quietly, popping the bill of his hat with the tips of my fingers. He narrowed his eyes, thinking of arguing, and then stood.

"You sure?"

"I'm positive. Now, go, before I change my mind."

* * *

The afternoon went on quietly. The group stayed busy with their jobs, as the afternoon wore on, and suppertime drew nearer. I knew it was the only time I would get a word in, with Daryl, and even then, he might not come in for dinner. He worked hard, especially when he was upset.

I threw a flannel shirt around my shoulders, meaning to thank Maggie for the clothing, later on. We were around the same size, only I was shorter by a mere three inches. So, everything fit like a glove.

I trotted down the stairs, and out the screen door, almost barreling into Daryl's ass. He stood, bent over a map, discussing strategy with Rick. Neither of them really looked up, as they finished their conversation, and Daryl moved to face Rick.

"We'll head up to Senoia. In and out…quick trip.", Rick said with authority. My ears perked up, hearing the name of my hometown slip from his lips, and Daryl and I traded glances. He quickly looked away with a nod, and continued his conversation with Rick.

"This pain in the ass will be a distant memory. Good riddance…", Daryl whispered, crossing his arms across his chest. He sat on the railing like a young boy, as Rick straightened, and turned to me. He offered a soft smile.

"Carol put together some provisions for him; enough to last a few days…", he continued. Daryl nodded in understanding, as did I, until Rick placed a hand on the railing beside him and shifted, "That thing you did, last night..."

"Ain't no reason you should do all the heavy liftin'."

My gaze softened at Daryl's words. He finally seemed to accept that he was a part of the group. He finally seemed to accept that Rick wanted him around, as much as the rest of us. We were a family. He was a part of the family…

Shane sped toward us in the CRV, driving like a bat out of hell. Both Rick and Daryl tensed, but Daryl glanced toward the ground, before standing.

"Imma go take a piss…", he mumbled, shooting a glance at me. I shook my head softly, letting him know that I was going to stay with Rick, and watched him walk away. I picked up the map, and looked it over, noting the farm's location, and then Senoia. I ran my finger along the highway that led directly across the expanse, to my farm, and smiled a bit. Maybe Daryl and I could go back there. Maybe we could get some of our things, our own clothes, pictures, memories…

"Hey man…You seen Carl, lately?", Shane asked, and I perked up, standing up straight, slightly behind Rick's arm.

"He's inside with his mother."

"Look, man…He came to me. I wasn't supposed to say anything, but he was out in the swamps yesterday and he came across a walker. It was stuck in the mud. He got scared; ran off.", Shane explained. I watched his expressions, the way he almost sneered the words at Rick; the resentment in his voice.

"Same walker that killed Dale?", Rick asked in response, shifting against me.

"That's the one…"

"I'll have Lori talk to him.", Rick murmured, his voice still holding exhaustion. He bit his lip, as Shane continued.

"I think he wants to talk to his father…"

"Well, I need this Randall thing done already…", Rick sneered right back. I reached a hand up behind him, placing it on his back as he shifted, and Shane's gaze changed from Rick, to me, back to Rick.

"Man, that needs to wait."

"It's my call…", Rick demanded, his muscles tensing. If we weren't careful, this would come to blows, and I had no clue where Daryl had run off to. Shane's facial expressions changed, from reasonable, to almost evil as he smirked. He lowered his eyelids and gritted his teeth, before he thought up something to say in retort.

"How about I ride out with Daryl?", he started, his gaze fixing on my face. He licked his lips, "It'd be good for us to spend a little time together…"

My body tensed at the threatening undertone, and I balled my fist in Rick's shirt, begging him to say something; defuse the situation.

"Nah. I need you here.", Rick answered, pressing his back against me. It was a fatherly way of pushing me away; coaxing me into the house. I stood my ground, glaring at Shane. His gaze didn't lift from my face as he scoffed.

"You don't think I'll handle it right, huh?"

"I didn't say that.", Rick shook his head, but Shane continued, pulling a gun from the back of his pants. I flinched, but sighed in relief as the gun clanked against the banister, where he laid it.

"Your son…gave me this. Why don't you give that back to Daryl, for me. Freein' that prisoner…more important to you than Carl…", Shane threw the insult, before stomping away. We both watched him, and finally relaxed; Rick turning to face me.

"So, he's threatening people, now?", I asked incredulously. Rick closed his eyes and sighed, nodding his head.

"I know…"

"You always know. That's all you ever say…'I know, Shan. I know…I know!' When are you going to get the balls to do something about him?! Is it that farfetched to give up on someone who's threatening everyone here? Do you really want him around Lori, like this?!", I practically screamed to Rick's closed eyes, "Look at me! How do you expect anyone in this camp to be safe…to feel…safe, with him here. Hershel's right…"

"What do you want me to do? Huh? It's not like I can just take him out and leave him somewhere! He's my best friend for Christ's sake!"

"I don't know! I don't know all the answers…but I do know that…if he kills someone. If he hurts someone in this camp, it's on your hands. He's gunning for you…I can see it in his eyes.", I explained, my own eyes welling up in tears.

"Good! Good…Let him come. I'll deal with it! It's better me, than any of you, right?"

"What?", I asked, narrowing my eyes as a tear snuck down my cheek.

"Let him come for me…I'll take care of it. I promised to keep these people safe, and I'll do that, but you gotta trust me. Do you trust…me?.."

"I trust you…", I whispered, nodding my head.

"Good. Now…why don't you go help Daryl with the truck. I got somethin' I gotta take care of. Go on…"

I nodded once again, and reluctantly turned from him. Daryl wasn't far away, leaned against the house with his arms crossed. The tip of his thumb between his teeth, he looked irritated.

"Rick said to come help you pack up.", I whispered, stepping close to him. His gaze barely turned to me from the yard.

"I need you to go with the women. Do some stuff in the house or somethin'. I don't trust you out here with Shane."

"I wanna help Glenn with watch…", I argued, but Daryl shook his head, his leg dropping from the side of the house.

"No. Yer gonna go inside with the women…do some laundry. Me and Rick'll be back in a few hours. Don't…try to argue. I ain't got time for all that. Just…go inside."

"Well Rick said to come help you. So, I'm gonna. I'll go inside when you leave.", I replied in a snotty tone. My reply elicited a small scoff from Daryl, and he shook his head, pushing past me to start loading crates of supplies into the back of the truck.

We loaded things a little quicker than I would have liked, pulling Daryl from me a little too quick. There was no telling how this trip could pan out for he and Rick. Anything could go wrong, and if something did go south, this could be the last time we were alone together. I sighed, and closed the tailgate with a heavy heart.

"What's goin' on?", Daryl asked, throwing a last water bottle over the edge of the tailgate.

"Nothin'. I'm gonna go see if T is ready to help y'all get him into the truck. Who knows if he'll put up a fight…", I whispered, looking down at the ground.

"Yer nervous.", Daryl said simply, his hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair from my face. I closed my eyes briefly and leaned into the touch, only for it to disappear, the hand being stuffed into his pocket.

"It's only right that I am. I mean...this shouldn't even be an issue, and now you're stuck risking life and limb to take care of him. He's like a plague."

"But it'll be overwith, and everyone here can move on. Winter's comin'. I don't see none of us dealin' with the cold AND this asshole. Better to get it out of the way, right?", he asked. It was almost like a pep talk, as his eyes scanned over my face, and he chewed on his lip.

"Yeah…", I whispered, before turning.

"You know I'm doin' it for you, too…right?"

I turned, my eyes narrowed, "Doin' what?"

"Don't want this bastard anywhere near you ever again. He did enough..."

I smirked, nodding my head, and turned to walk toward the barn T-dog had been working on. The CRV sat in front of it, Shane's boots peeking out from behind the door of the stable. The sound of a hammer pounding away at a piece of plywood was unmistakable, but stopped suddenly, as Shane rose to his feet.

"Need somethin' Shan?", he asked, his smile creeping me out a bit as he leaned against the barn, shirt unbuttoned, hammer hanging loosely from his fingertips.

"Just lookin' for T-dog…not trouble, Shane."

"Now, who said I was lookin' for any sort of trouble? I just asked you a question.", he mused, his grin becoming a bit wider, "Rick's got your panties in a bunch…got them claws so deep in you that you can't even see straight. I ain't the bad guy, here…"

"And I suppose Rick is…", I whispered, rolling my eyes.

"Didn't say that. I'm the pariah…the…the guy that Rick has shaped into the perfect villain. I mean, look at you…"

"Don't…", I whispered, holding a hand up, "Don't turn this into a pity party. I just came out here to find T-dog…have you seen him?"

"I gave him a break. I sent him in for some food. He looked a bit under the weather to me…What do you need help with?", Shane asked, turning his head to the side like a confused puppy. I shook my head, and held my hand up again, hoping to crush any ideas he was getting.

"I'll just help them myself."

"With that prisoner? Well let's go do it, then. I'll help you out.", Shane said in a cheerful voice. He dropped the hammer noisily to the ground, and stepped up beside me. My body tensed as I judged his movements for a second. He seemed sincere, at least in the way he stood, and I was left with no choice, but to carry on.

As we approached the smelly barn, Shane retrieved a set of keys from his pocket. His hand brushed by his gun, and my own hand flinched, reaching for my own absent pistol. A small smile crept onto his face, as he pulled the lock free from the barn door, and pushed it open. Immediately Randall began moving, groaning, asking questions behind the thick piece of duct tape that covered his mouth. I wanted to shush him. I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, because honestly, he made me nervous.

Shane's movements stopped as soon as we were both inside; the door shut behind us. I stood still as well, my breathing slowing down as the reality began to dawn on me. He had no plans to help me with Randall. The smirk that plastered itself to his lips, and the gun that now rested in his skilled hands told the whole story. He was going to kill me.

I was so worried about Rick that I played into the game.

"So what? You kill me…and you think it's all going to end for you?", I asked, my voice shaky as I slowly turned to him.

"Never said I wanted to kill you. Honestly…if it weren't for the fact that I need you, you do me a huge favor, around here…"

"And what's that?", I asked, glancing around his feet for anything to take him down with.

"Rick's distracted, honed in on your charm or whatever. He's out of my hair, and rumors fly around. He thinks that baby is his…and yet…he's all snuggled up with you in some barn? Nah…that ain't how things work, but yet…I have to give you props."

"Nothing's goin' on with me and Rick…", I sassed, my stomach beginning to churn with nervousness.

"I see the way he looks at you…the way he coddles you…leaves his pregnant wife to fend for herself so that poor…innocent little Shan doesn't get her feelings hurt while she's having a spat with her fuck buddy…", Shane chided, stinging me a bit with his "nickname" for Daryl.

"So, what's this? You don't want to kill me…but you need me. For what?"

"How do you think Daryl's gonna feel when he finds out my friend, here…took you away to live with his friends? Ah, yeah. There's that dumb look…There's that fear…", he explained, his gun waving loosely in his hand as he broke into laughter. My own gut hit the ground, and I brought my hands up, as some poor support for my stomach. This couldn't be happening.

"I won't let you.", I whispered, fighting back tears.

"Who said I was askin'?", he sneered back, throwing a punch at my face. I stumbled, but stayed on my feet, sweeping my hair from my eyes as best I could, as he wrenched my hands to the front of my body, and quickly began hog-tying them. With the awkward position, it didn't matter how hard I struggled. I was trapped. I gritted my teeth against the pressure, and pulled, much to Shane's amusement.

"Now. Let's go start the party…shall we?"

"What…you just plan to drive us out to some road? You really think they'll fall for that bullshit?", I asked, before spitting a bit of blood at his boots. His large hand grasped my chin tightly, pulling my face close to his as he smiled.

"No. I got a bigger picture in mind for both of you. Out of everyone's hair…on to better things; so to say. Dixon will move on…maybe even move away. It'll be like it was before you showed up…Now get up.."

He drug me from the floor, and quickly shoved me against the nearest wall, while he tended to Randall. Randall wasn't quite as hesitant, after the blindfold was removed. He stood on his own, and followed Shane like a puppy. If I had cared, I would have warned him that Shane was leading us to execution.

He led us from the barn, straight into the woods, where he shoved both of us forward into tree coverage. Instantly, my instincts kicked in. I began looking for any route of escape; a means to hide and wait for Daryl to get smart, and come looking. The search was useless in the swampy woods. Our footprints would be swallowed up by mud before the men ever stepped foot in the woods to look. It would be as if we vanished, into thin air.

Randall, being nervous, began chatting Shane up. He began to tell him how well he would fit into their group; their 'family'. He seemed excited and naïve, and I wanted to break his jaw for being so innocent. As we touched the middle of the forest, Shane stopped, and looked around. Before I could say a word, Randall's neck snapped, with a disgusting twist, and he fell; dead onto the ground. I gasped, my ears not functioning, as I watched his lifeless body splash water in the swampy mud. With him gone…it was my turn.

"Shane…think about what you're doing…", I whispered in a sob. I was pleading for my life, but it obviously fell on deaf ears. Without much warning, he lunged at me, causing me to stumble back. I managed to get my footing, and took off in a sprint. With my hands tied, the feat was difficult, but I had to get to the edge of the woods. I could scream. Daryl or Rick would hear me…and this would all be over.

I could hear Shane's breathing behind me, as he began to close the distance with his much longer strides, but I could also see the truck in the sparse trees. We were growing closer. A hand grabbing my elbow sent me into swats and body twists as I began screaming at the top of my lungs.

"DARYL! RICK! RICK!", I screamed, and I could have sworn I saw Rick turn and glance at the woods, before I was brought down to the ground, "Shane, no! Stop it…please. You don't have to do this!"

Once again, my pleading fell on deaf ears, as his hands came to my throat, squeezing the life out of me. I scratched, swatted, and grabbed at his face, but it was no use. I failed, and as I slipped into unconsciousness, I only thought of home.

* * *

"He ain't in there!", T-dog screamed out as Daryl and Rick came running to him. Daryl frowned, and stopped in front of him.

"Shan ain't with ya?", he asked, his eyes narrowed in worry. T-dog shook his head, seeming a bit nervous at how Daryl would take the news, "She said she was comin' to get ya. She didn't show up or nothin'?"

"Nah, man. I haven't seen her in a couple of days, I'd say. Sumbitch slipped his cuffs…ran off or something…", T-dog changed the subject and Daryl's eyes hit the ground, staring at the dirt for any signs of struggle or tracks. There were three distinct sets of boot tracks that were being walked all over. One set staggered all over the place: probably the kid's. The other two were close together, as if they were fighting, or arguing.

"Rick, man…can I talk to you?", Daryl asked, turning to Rick quickly. The group had began buzzing around them, asking questions that even Rick didn't want to answer. However, Rick's attention seemed undivided as he leaned his head down to listen to Daryl, "I think somethin'…"

"RICK! HE TOOK MY GUN!", Shane screamed, exiting the woods in an infuriated stomp. His nose was bloodied and he looked like he had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, from what Daryl could tell, "He took the girl…and my gun. He's out there and he's armed…"

"Whoa whoa whoa…he took…he-he took her? He TOOK HER?!", Daryl practically screamed, as Rick's arm snaked around to grab his shoulders. Rick's mind was in overdrive, from what Daryl could see, but it didn't stop the terrified and angry tears that welled up in his eyes, "He took her…"

"Then we've gotta find him…and take care of the problem…", Rick said calmly, staring straight into Daryl's eyes. He then spoke up for the group to hear, "Daryl, you and Glenn start combing the woods. Shane and me…we'll go out the other way. Maybe he was dumb enough to take the road. You shoot to kill…and you watch each other's backs…"

Daryl nodded quickly, tightening his grip on his crossbow as they stood. Shane gave him a glance, and instantly he knew. Something had happened…and Shane was responsible.

"He clocked me in the face, man…", Shane began explaining to Rick.

"Kid weighs a buck-twenty-five soakin' wet. Shan could have taken him out herself…and yer tellin' us he got the jump on you?", Daryl asked condescendingly. Shane's sneer grew a bit wider as he tried to step forward to meet Daryl.

"I'd say a rock pretty much evens things out, wouldn't you?"

"C'mon…We gotta go out there and find the bastard, before he does worse than he already has to her…", Glenn spoke up in a failed attempt at comfort. His hand brushed Daryl's arm, and they both turned to enter the woods.

"I just want you to know…straight from my mouth. If we find her out here…and she ain't in one piece, I'm killin' that motherfucker…", Daryl whispered, anguish lacing his voice, heavily.

"I'll back you up…"

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**Endnote: Don't hate me for where it left off. I figured a taste of the finale was better than making you wait any more. I should have the true finale up tomorrow or the next day. :) R&R and things get done!**


	36. Chapter 35: Beside The Dying Fire

**A/N: Before the internal screaming is heard from miles around, just know that you can find the sequel to this story on my page. If you want me to, I can post the link somewhere else. Just ask for it in the review section.**

**This chapter is the final official chapter of "I Can't Face The Dark Without You". I know! I'm sad too, but for those of you who love Shan's story, and are here for her story, as well as the shipper part of things are going to LOVE LOVE LOVE the sequel.**

**A few things that are going to happen in the sequel:**

**1) There are some rivalries to look forward to for Daryl and another character who may want to move into his territory (probably not who you think).**

**2) Shan...well...you'll just have to see.**

**3) A new character is getting a rewrite, because their sendoff in the show was BS to me. So, i'm giving them a better one :)**

**Please please please read and review. I have to go to work, and then when I get home I'm going to write a very short epilogue, before I consider this officially complete. It's a reaction from Daryl to the ending, here.**

**If things seem like they totally ended abruptly, it's because they did. It was the only way to end things. The difference between my story and the show? You don't have to wait six months to read a new chapter! This chapter took forever to post, and I'm sorry, but the sequel will be up in DAYS.**

**Things may also seem to jump around a lot, and I apologize, but I promise you'll love it!**

**Look for "You Are The Wilderness" (the name of the sequel)!**

* * *

Chapter 35: Beside The Dying Fire

Pain. Insurmountable pain and confusion; that about sums up the feeling of waking up from my 'nap'. Darkness had fallen on the forest, and honestly, I didn't know if anyone was still around.

"Help…", I wheezed out in my best attempt to scream. Confused, I brought a hand up to grasp at my sore throat, wincing ever so slightly, "HELP!"

The wheeze was a bit louder, but still wouldn't reach through any of those trees. The pain in my left arm was excruciating; almost blinding as I attempted to move the limb. It was quickly jerked back, by what felt like a pair of hands, and I frowned into the darkness, wrenching the arm from the vice grips that held it in place. A loud snarl sounded, shocking me out of any kind of daze, as I scrambled backward away from the walker in the dark.

Panic would be the next emotion I could describe to you, as I realized the inevitable. I was bitten. I was bitten and dying.

"Oh my god…NO!", I wheezed out, kicking the walker in the face as he came down onto me. Hitting the ground, he reached out, his fingernails scraping down my legs like razors, before tangling in my hair as I began to stand, "DARYL!"

* * *

"What exactly is your plan if she's…", Glenn started, and Daryl sniffled, his eyelids heavy; his head hanging. He shook his head and shrugged a bit, but kept walking through the darkness. Glenn simply nodded, not pushing the issue. Daryl was thankful that the kid had learned a thing or two about him. As much as he tried to play himself off as a loner, he enjoyed the company…

A noise perked his ears up, and Glenn began glancing between Daryl and the bushes, where the noise sounded from. Daryl quickly grabbed Glenn by the shoulder, and pushed him against a tree, holding a hand out for him to be silent, and to hide. Glenn immediately nodded, plastering his back against the large tree; flashlight and machete clenched tightly against his chest.

The lone walker shambled closer, causing Daryl's breath to pick up as he counted in his head. It would be an easy kill, but as close as the damn thing was, it would be easier for Glenn. As if he read Daryl's mind, Glenn made eye contact with him, slipped out from behind the tree and stood face to face with the walker, shining his MagLite in it's face.

With a yelp, Glenn stumbled backward, the walker falling on top of him. Daryl rolled his eyes, pulled his crossbow up and made a shot, only to miss. That had never happened before. With no time to worry, he grabbed the walker, pulling it off of Glenn and onto its feet, where it turned and attacked Daryl. Grunting, his back slammed against the nearest tree, holding it's shirt collar to keep it still, as a machete came crashing through the top of it's skull. Daryl grunted one last time, and relaxed, as Glenn pulled the walker off of him, and offered a hand.

"Thanks…", he mumbled, grabbing the outstretched hand, and hoisting himself to his feet. He snatched the light out of Glenn's hand, shining it on the face of the corpse at their feet and his eyebrows furrowed, "Hey…it's that kid…"

Glenn's hands came to rest on his hips as he turned in a complete circle, scanning the woods, "What does that mean?"

Daryl crouched beside Randall's body, and began looking him over for bites. His body was as clean as the day they had brought him in, save the leg wound. Daryl made his way from the feet all the way to the head, turning it to the side.

"He ain't got no bites…but his neck's broke…", he whispered. He narrowed his eyes as they passed over Randall's hand, which was covered in a bush of red hair. Daryl picked a bit of it off, standing to look at Glenn. The glance they shared was a mutual understanding, and Daryl stepped back from the body, turning his own in a circle as he brought a hand to cup around his mouth, "SHAN!"

"You really think she did that to him? Snapping a neck isn't easy, Daryl…"

"I ain't givin' up on her that fast…Go join the rest of 'em and leave me be if you don't…", Daryl started before Glenn bit his lip and suddenly snapped, tears flowing down his face.

"She means as much to me as she does any of you! I found her FIRST…I brought her to you…Don't you dare pretend that this isn't my business, or that you're the only one allowed to be hurting. We're ALL hurting…Daryl. If we don't find her…it's a blow to the group. She's…She's just as much a part of Rick's family…as any of us. Let's just go find her…", Glenn strung out, barely breathing. He let out a ragged breath, sniffled, and took off through the woods in silence. Daryl too collected himself, standing with his hand on his hip, before loading a bolt onto the string of his crossbow, and following Glenn's footprints.

* * *

I wrenched my hair loose, ripping a clump out by its roots as I stumbled, and took off running through the dense woods. The walker snarled and reached, but didn't pursue me too closely. As I ran, I could hear the blood flowing from my arm; splashing against the dry leaves below. The sound was almost deafening, as the effects slowly but surely took over my body.

"Not like this…Please…", I whispered to no one, stopping to lean against a tree. My heart was racing and my mind didn't slow too much, itself as I waited for my breathing to calm down. The once freezing night air wasn't enough to keep the sweat from cascading down my face, to join the blood below.

"SHAN!"

Painfully, my head jerked toward the sound of Daryl's voice, rattling my thoughts momentarily.

"Daryl? DARYL!", I attempted to scream, pushing myself away from the tree. I stumbled toward the sound, making the loudest noises I could with my feet. Hopefully, I could draw Daryl right to me. Those hopes were shot, however, as I caught a glimpse of both Glenn and Daryl, tromping through the woods. Before I could even run for them, a gunshot sounded, reverberating through my body like a sledgehammer. I groaned, clutched my stomach, but kept moving; only to watch Daryl and Glenn run out of the woods, toward the shot, "God dammit. C'mon Shan…"

I huffed once, and kept moving toward the outskirts of the woods. No matter the outcome, I was not dying alone.

* * *

Daryl narrowed his eyes, listening to an intense rustling in the woods. It sounded almost like a deer, galloping through the fall leaves, but the sound grew closer. A walker, maybe? Or maybe it was Shan…

A large caliber gunshot shocked his entire body out of its hopeful daze, and he turned. The movement in the woods stopped. All was silent. It only took one glance from Glenn, and he was off. If it wasn't Shan, it was Rick. Both carried the same gun. Both were either in trouble, or were WITH trouble.

"You think that was her?", Glenn gasped out as they made it to the edge of the woods, and galloped up the steps of the house. Daryl didn't answer. Instead, he swung the back door open, and briskly waltzed into the living room.

"Rick and Shane ain't back yet?"

"No…", Lori whispered, her face concerned.

"We heard a shot…"

"Maybe they found Randall?", Lori spoke up again. This time, her face was hopeful, and as much as Daryl hated to do so, he shook his head, shutting down the idea.

"Nah. We found him. He was a walker."

"Did you find the walker that bit him?", Hershel asked politely, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. Daryl shook his head.

"His neck was broke…See…thing is…Shane and Randall's tracks were right on top of each other. Shane ain't no tracker. So, kid didn't come up behind him. They were together…", Daryl explained, glancing to Lori. Realization swept over her face, and she stood, reaching out to him in desperation. Her hand fell on his chest lightly, and he flinched, but watched her.

"Please get back out there and find out what's going on. Please…"

"You got it…", Daryl whispered with a nod. He pushed past the others, and out the door of the house. The growling was instantly the only thing he could hear as he peered across the yard. In the distance, a vast horde of walkers could be seen, shambling and dragging themselves across the field, directly toward the house, "Oh shit…"

"What's…", Glenn started, as he bumped into Daryl's back. His mouth fell open and he glanced up at the older man's face, his eyes wide, "What do we do? Daryl…what do we do?!"

"I don't know…", Daryl whispered calmly, although his heart was pounding out of his chest.

"But Shan…We have to go get her. Daryl we have to…"

"I SAID I DON'T KNOW!", Daryl snapped, watching for any sign of life amongst the sea of dead closing in on them. Hershel began giving instructions. The women began moving around, but Glenn stayed at his side.

"Maybe they're like the herd on the highway. Maybe we can just...just hunker down and they'll go around?"

Daryl shook his head sadly, and looked around at the faces that seemed to be relying on him, all of the sudden, "Unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know bout, a herd like that'd rip the house down…"

"Carl's gone…", Lori gasped from behind them. Daryl's stomach fell even harder as he clenched his crossbow for dear life, "He was supposed to be upstairs…I'm not leaving without my boy!"

"We're not. We're gonna look again and we're gonna find him.", Carol said with desperation. She grabbed Lori's hand and took off back into the house.

Hershel and Maggie began distributing guns, and Daryl just had to narrow his eyes at the stupid plan he could see unfolding, here. They were planning to attack the herd, try to take them down. They would be mowed over in a heartbeat.

"Whoa…we're not seriously planning to take them all on, are we?", he asked Hershel, who quickly shut him down.

"You can go if you want. This is my farm…I'll die here."

"Alright. It's a good night as any…", Daryl murmured, jumping over the rail. As he hit the ground he scanned the yard, still frantically searching for Shan. The plan was hopeless, but surely Rick was somewhere. He wouldn't let the group go down swinging, if things looked bad. Worst came to worst…they would all hit the highway.

* * *

I breathlessly scrambled out of the woods and against the rotten wood of the stable. The old wood against my forehead caused me to cry out, as the venom continued to flood my veins. I lifted a hand, and pushed my face away from the side of the barn, struggling to continue.

However, an idea began unfolding in my brain. If I could get inside, I could buy the rest some time. I felt my way down the side of the barn, to the door handle and finally around the open door. As I stumbled, I slammed into a body. The scream that left my throat scared us both, and I realized quickly that it wasn't a walker. It was Andrea.

"Andrea…Oh my god…", I gasped, feeling around my face with my hands. I was okay. I was still alive, at least.

"What are you doing out here? I think Daryl's looking for you. C'mon. We have to get back to the house."

"No…", I argued, pushing her approaching hand away. Her eyes narrowed as she turned and stared at me. It took a moment, but the realization swept over her like a tidal wave, a hand came up to her mouth, and she sobbed.

"But…There has to be something…", she whispered through her fingers, shaking her head, "What…Does anyone else know?"

"You're the first I've seen…Sh-Shane…He's gonna kill Rick…"

"What?", she asked, pulling her hand down from her face.

"He took us out..m-me and the…and the kid. Tried to kill us both, but…I woke up like this…"

"Alright. We'll find him…them…First, let's find Daryl.", she whispered with a feigned smile creeping onto her lips. She sniffled, gently placed a hand on my arm, and began dragging me from the stable.

"No. Andrea…no…", I croaked out. A small sob left her lips, and she turned.

"Then what?"

"I have to do something, first…If I'm gonna die, I wanna die my way.", I puffed my chest out a bit, and turned to the nearest horse. It was already saddled, an emergency vehicle of sorts. I flipped the latch on the door, and grabbed the reigns with a small groan, "Hoist me up?"

"A horse?"

"Just hoist me up!", I snapped. The groaning outside was almost deafening, as the walkers lined up around the closed fence. Andrea quickly scrambled to one knee, linking her fingers to make a step for me. I stepped onto it, and she raised quickly, practically throwing me onto the horse. I laid against its mane, catching my breath as much as possible, against my failing lungs.

Grabbing the reins, I kicked the horse's sides softly, and began trotting toward pasture. Andrea ran to catch up.

"Take this. Please…Worst comes to worst…you know what to do with it.", she said softly, handing over one of the handguns she had hoarded. Nodding, I took the gun, shoved it into the waistband of my pants, and took off across the pasture. My voice was strong enough to speak, but was it strong enough for my plan to work?

"HEY! OVER HERE! C'MON!", I screamed as my horse galloped toward the fence. The scream tore at my throat, but the growls grew hungrier, and all eyes were on me. I held on tight, pushed forward on the reigns and much to my excitement, the horse jumped over the short fence like it was nothing. There was no spooking, no rearing, just swift running, "Andrea! Go to the others! GO!"

I couldn't make out Andrea's response, but she turned and took off toward the middle of the property. My head throbbed in stress as I hugged the tree line. In the distance, the 'smelly barn' blazed, like the fourth of July.

* * *

Daryl's bike roared to life as he kicked off toward the burning barn. Hopefully, Rick had set the fire. Hopefully, he was alive and kicking. Hopefully…he had Shan. As he rode down the hill, he pulled his revolver, firing round after round at the never ending queue of death that approached.

The RV pulled up beside him, and the kid he hadn't bothered to know leaned out the window.

"What's going on?"

"I think Rick started that fire to draw 'em in. Let's circle on around!", Daryl yelled back to the kid, who nodded, and took off toward the barn. He fired a few more shots, before circling around to the road, his eyes trained on the outskirts of the woods, "C'mon Shan…C'mon…"

* * *

I could make out Daryl's frame against the fire, but I couldn't force myself to draw the walkers to him. Instead, I glanced back at them, and screamed again. The horse was good, he kept running as if he had been waiting to stretch those beautiful legs, and we hit the gravel road within seconds.

I was headed home. If Daryl survived the night…I would see him in the morning. I just had to make it a few more hours. I took a deep breath, glanced down at the bite on my arm, and kicked the horse's sides a bit harder.

* * *

A scream sparked Daryl's attention. It was time to go. The walkers had taken the farm, vehicle after vehicle had passed him, and as far as he could tell, everyone was gone…except for Shan. It had to be her. It had to be…

He pushed off, and the engine roared, flying down the gravel to what he hoped was that red hair, safe and sound. It didn't matter what Shane had done to her. It didn't matter what she looked like, or what shape she was in. They could fix her. They could fix anything…unless she was bitten. That was something they would deal with, if it came to it.

The crying and screaming grew louder, and he stopped, waiting for the owner of the voice to emerge from behind the stable fence. There was no red hair. It wasn't Shan, but Carol, staggering away from the walkers in terror. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't force himself to, but if he had to, he would cram them both onto the back of this bike.

"C'mon! I ain't got all day!", he screamed at her as the walkers began closing in on them both. The sun was already rising over the horizon. Daryl hadn't remembered the time slipping away that quickly, but apparently, they had been at battle for hours. His eyes scanned the woods as the loud Triumph motor roared through the fog, and bodies, "You keep an eye out for Shan, back there!"

Carol's grip on his waist tightened, and she leaned forward, her ragged breathing hot against his ear. Daryl narrowed his eyes, and turned his head slightly, as she began speaking.

"I saw her…back at the farm. She had a horse…", she explained, "She seemed…sick…or hurt…"

"We gotta go back then!", Daryl snapped, straightening his body to look for a place to turn around. Carol buried her face into his back with a loud sigh.

"Daryl...She's gone. She took off. From the looks of it, she was hurt bad."

"She went home…", Daryl said softly, speeding up. The quicker he could get to the highway, the quicker he could get to Senoia.

* * *

The fog seemed to thicken as the horse beneath me panted and struggled to carry me along the six lane interstate. Only another mile, and we would be trotting right up to my front door.

What better place to die, right?

As we reached the gravel roads, he began to slow, like he knew the drill. There was really no telling how many times Maggie had taken him into the city for this or that. He was well trained, and if I had the chance, I would commend her for doing such a wonderful job, but that would never happen. This was the last sunrise I would ever see. This was the last horse I would ever ride, and unfortunately, I would probably never see Daryl's face again.

The old farmhouse loomed in the distance. Against the pale sky, it seemed to radiate light. It seemed like home. A random group of walkers shambled all around the yard, but everything else seemed to be in place as I pulled the horse into the small coral. He was thankful, lying down immediately. I rode him down to the ground, and rolled off of his back, standing to stumble through the fence. Outside the gate, I stumbled, tripping over a pile of something soft. It crumbled against my booted foot, and as I fell to the ground, it dawned on me what the pile was.

I rolled onto my back, and scrambled away from the charred remains of my parents, just randomly burned in the grass outside our home. A sob escaped my throat as the familiar burning of grief ripped through my chest. I hadn't thought of them in forever, letting the terrible memory of their death pass away as I adjusted to this new world. In reality, I forgot about them…because I couldn't handle the truth.

A loud growl stirred me, as I lifted my teary eyes from the ground, to a walker- shambling toward me. Groaning, I lifted myself to my feet, and began a pathetic run toward the house.

"C'mon Shan…", I whispered, stumbling against the steps. The door was still open, left untouched after the 'purge'. I stepped around a body in the kitchen. The body was of a police officer, a police officer that I hadn't killed. Narrowing my eyes, I quickly crouched, and pulled his gun from the utility belt around his waist. He wouldn't be needing it…

I stumbled back from the corpse, onto the stairs, where I carefully carried my shaky body upward. It was a terrible idea, but if I had to choose a place to die, it would be somewhere comfortable; safe. I pushed my bedroom door open, and stumbled inside, quickly falling onto the floor in exhaustion. My lungs were no longer carrying the air I needed to breathe, and my brain was tired; ready to give up.

As I laid there, I reached out, my hand meeting the cool wood of the floor like ice. I was burning up, burning out. I glanced to the wall at the pictures, and slowly closed my eyes.

* * *

"Nobody's goin' anywhere!", Rick scolded, his face coming close to Glenn's. The group was rocked. A few of them were missing, or confirmed dead, and their loved ones were desperate to find them. Daryl stepped forward, grabbing the handle bars of his bike.

"I'm goin' back fer her.", he slurred out, glaring at Rick.

"No you're not. We survive this by pulling together! She's not there. She's somewhere else or she's dead…", Rick snapped. He returned Daryl's stare, their blue eyes burning holes in one another.

"You'd go back for yers…", Daryl almost whispered, slinging a leg over his bike. Rick didn't argue, but he raised a hand.

"You know where we'll be…I don't agree with this…"

"I know. But she's it, man…I can't leave her back there…", Daryl said sadly, "I'll see about Andrea, too."

With that, they both nodded, and Daryl took off toward Senoia.

Thunder. Crashing thunder tore through my sore brain like shockwaves. I groaned, tightening my closed eyes as the thunder grew louder. What the hell was that? It was loud, and it reverberated through the floorboards in a rhythm. As I listened, I recognized that rhythm: footsteps.

"No…", I whispered, not moving my head from the ground.

"No? What the hell's goin' on here, princess?", a familiar voice chimed throughout the room. I furrowed my eyebrows, and if I had've had the strength, I would have looked like a deer in headlights, "How long you been like this?"

"Merle?"

"Mm…", he murmured in confirmation. I let a half smirk rise up from somewhere, and licked my lips.

"Good to see…you…", I stammered, "Thought you was dead."

"Dead?! Who the hell told you I was dead?"

"Daryl. I found him…Rick…They went back for ya…", I whispered. A shadow passed over my closed eyes, blocking out the faint sunlight as Merle kneeled beside me, and placed a cold hand to the side of my face.

"Sheriff Rick?"

"Mhm. They went back to get ya…be here any minute.", I croaked out.

"You ain't got a minute, sweetheart."

"I ain't leavin' without Daryl.", I managed, but quickly lost consciousness. Merle passed a hand over my mouth, tugged my eyelid up, and after a few seconds, hoisted me from the ground.

"Ain't dyin' on me…bit or not…Chop yer damn arm off…", he stammered, carrying me down the stairs and out the front door.

It was the start of something I never wanted. It was the beginning of something new. This world isn't meant for people like me. This world is made for the strong, like Rick. The rest? We're collateral damage.

My name is Shan.

This is how I died.


	37. Epilogue: Without You

**A/N: Here is your epilogue. It's the icing on top of my cake and this story is now complete. I'll be sending out links to those who want them and the rest can go and find the story, "You Are The Wilderness". It's not currently up, but I'll try to find a way to invite you all to it.**

**Just remember (I'm speaking because of the comments), everything happens for a reason. Look at the big picture, and trust me that I'm not going to butcher the characters that you love, including Shan. I have HUGE plans for Shan, Daryl, Merle, and the entire group/groups, really.**

**I'm sad to wrap this up, but it's been amazing and I want to say I APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! Even the ones of you who have never reviewed. I still love you. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it...and I hope to see you over at the sequel.**

**:) Now go read and review, lovelies.**

* * *

Epilogue: Without You

Daryl's ears were ringing, by the time he reached the large farm that engulfed most of the land in the tiny town of Senoia, Georgia. The Triumph puttered to a stop, and he turned the engine off, staring around the yard at the mess of bodies. Two or three were human, the blood on their faces probably still warm from their untimely demise. The rest were walkers, their chins impaled with something extremely sharp, like a sword.

Narrowing his eyes, he left the bike, and sprinted for the steps of the house. If Shan was here, hurt or not, she would be in the house. She would probably be lying in bed.

"Shan?", he called, walking through the open door. There was no sound, except the crickets and birds outside. It was a blow to his morale, as he creaked up the stairs slowly, crossbow drawn to his face. His breathing was ragged, and he hoped for the best; although he unfortunately had planned for the worst, "Answer me, now…"

The blood trail was ominous, as he caught sight of it. It trailed up the stairs in a dark line. The blood also smeared, with a hand print, along the yellow of the wall. Swallowing hard, Daryl pushed forward, slowly opening the door to Shan's room.

"Hey…you in here…", he started to ask, as the puddle of blood came into frame. It was black, and sticky; dried from hours of lying pooled on the hardwood. Aside from the puddle, was what seemed to be slippery footprints. They were strewn and were hard to make out, as if someone staggered along and out of the room.

Suddenly the world was spinning. The unfortunate truth was sinking in, and the disbelief was leaving him. He had to believe what he was seeing. It was right in front of him. However, instead of dealing with it. He did what he could; staring intensely at the dark puddle. He brought a hand up to grip his growing hair, and met the nearest wall with his back, before his system shut down, and a loud sob escaped his lips.

The sob rang through the silent house, like a cry from a wounded animal. Daryl's face contorted in pain, suffering, and fear. She was probably out in the woods, shambling around; destined to eat someone. She had crawled from her sacred place. She had waited for him, and he had failed her. Another sob left his mouth, and the anger began to build.

"NO!", he screamed into the silence, punching his forehead with enough force to send stars across his closed eyelids, "FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

"Fuck…", he breathed, the sobs rocking his body subsiding into pitiful whimpers as he leaned his head back against the wall. This couldn't be the end of everything. This couldn't be what he deserved. It sure as hell wasn't how she deserved to go down. This wasn't exactly swinging. However, as he drifted off into an intense daydream, the truth of the situation began to dawn on him.

He would have to put her down.

* * *

"Daryl?", Rick called not even sure he had the right house. From the tracks on the map, and the direction the group was already forced to go, he had managed to track Daryl directly to his old home, "Daryl?"

Daryl didn't answer. He didn't move. He simply stared straight ahead into the void that was becoming the darkened room. He had sat in the same place from dawn, and now it was twilight; the sun drifting steadily toward the earth.

As Rick slowly climbed the stairs and entered the room, he noticed Daryl's demeanor. It wasn't threatening, or scary. It wasn't typical Daryl. His tear stained face read so much more. It was heartbreak; turmoil; despair. Daryl was in pain.

"The rest of the group are outside. I couldn't leave them at the highway…but I couldn't leave you, either…"

Daryl slowly lifted his tired eyes from the ground to stare at Rick's.

"Just go…", he wheezed, a tear falling from the corner of his right eye. Rick narrowed his own eyes, and stepped toward Daryl, kneeling in front of him.

"Did you find her?"

"Don't matter, does it? We're all dyin'. Some faster than others…ya know?", Daryl whispered, shrugging his shoulders, "She's bit. Crazy, right? Too good to be true, really."

"C'mon. I'll go with you. We'll find her…take care of it."

"Nah. Imma stay here.", Daryl said with a soft smirk.

"You can't stay here. We…I…I need you."

"I said…I'll stay here. Git. I don't need nobody else gettin' hurt…", Rick ran a hand down his face as Daryl spoke these words. Daryl's eyes were cloudy, and although Rick had to think for the greater good, he quickly found a silver lining.

"Alright. We'll all stay…", Rick said quickly. Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"Wha?"

"We'll all stay. It's safe, for now…and if she's out there, I don't want you to have to go through that alone.", Rick explained. His fatherly tone calmed much of Daryl's despair, but didn't stop the pain in his chest as he leaned over with a nod, and rested his elbows on his bent knees. Rick smiled at the nod, and patted the top of Daryl's hand, before standing to his feet, "I'll do what I have to do, but if she's gone….she wouldn't want you to go down with her, Daryl."

"Gone…", Daryl whispered finally, scoffing a bit in crude humor. In his typical nature, his heart began to ice over, the longer he sat there. It began to matter less, as killing began to take over his brain. He was going mad, and he liked it. It fit. He had lost everything; given up everything. He deserved to be broken. He deserved to feel pain.

Tonight…he would gather the gumptions.

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow wasn't something he wanted to think about. Losing someone is one thing. Killing someone you love…is something impossible to grasp. It was something he was thrown into. Now, the group was moving into HER house, to sleep in HER rooms, and she was nowhere to be found.

"No no no…", he whispered into the dim light of the room; a line that would be repeated hundreds of times over the next few hours, as he came to terms with the fact that Shan, was truly gone, this time.

* * *

"Without You" by Breaking Benjamin

Search for the answers I knew all along  
I lost myself, we all fall down  
Never the wiser of what I've become  
Alone I stand, a broken man

All I have is one last chance  
I won't turn my back on you  
Take my hand, drag me down  
If you fall then I will too  
And I can't save what's left of you

Sing something new  
I have nothing left  
I can't face the dark without you  
There's nothing left to lose  
The fight never ends  
I can't face the dark without you

Swallow me under and pull me apart  
I understand, there's nothing left  
Pain so familiar and close to the heart  
No more, no less, I won't forget

Come back down, save yourself  
I can't find my way to you  
And I can't bear to face the truth

I wanted to forgive  
I'm trying to forget  
Don't leave me here again  
I am with you forever, the end

Holding the hand that holds me down  
I forgive you, forget you, the end  
Holding the hand that holds me down  
I forgive you, forget you, the end


End file.
